Ula grimaced down at her ankle. She took the one fence by simply putting her free hand on the top and swinging the rest of her body up and over. Landing on her good ankle did not impair her.
Several people squawked at the sight. She shrugged and jumped over the second fence before someone got it into their head to be a hero. There was an immediate response from the onlookers, who scrambled for their phones. Ula didn’t wait for them to pluck their way to the camera icons on their smart phones. She stepped over the edge of the black hole and vanished.
Chapter 7
I tawt I taw a puddy tat.
— Tweety
~
Then
Days after the rescue, Killian wasn’t happy, and he didn’t expect to become happy anytime soon. The biggest thorn in his side was that he had to watch Wheeler and Emma together. They laughed. Emma was giddy. That girl hadn’t been giddy a day in her life. As a matter of fact, Killian had never seen her laugh before. Wheeler laughed and looked like a very heavy load had been instantly removed from his shoulders. And typically Wheeler was the king of dour.
At a special dinner Wheeler held to celebrate the mating and the rescue, Killian had to watch Per Forester discover that he had a mate, too. The weretiger had smelled one of the kidnapped were’s clothing, and he was instantly lost to the general female population. No more tiger on the menu. Cute little were girls everywhere are bawling their eyes out. The only issue is that he hasn’t even seen the girl, and furthermore, he’s got to find her, too, because she’s been kidnapped.
Killian shrugged. Getting to be the norm around here. Weres are going to be running for the hills.
Killian immediately recalled what Wheeler had said to him on the plane trip up to Wyoming. “One day, it’s going to happen to you,” he said. “And I’ll laugh my ass off.” But Killian certainly wasn’t going to broadcast the fact that he had met his mate and lost her within a matter of hours. In fact, he didn’t even know where she was to be found. The only reason he knew her last name was because Micah had made it a point to tell him.
It turned out there wasn’t enough booze in the world to make the nagging hurt, or some other feeling that he didn’t really want to name, go away. Killian snagged another waiter and told him to bring two bottles of the Chateau Mouton Rothschild that the servers were passing out like soda pop.
Per had stood up and tracked the smell. He was like a were possessed. He moved through the weres and gradually everyone in the room became aware of his absorbed intent. As if he was dancing in a world with a thousand partners, Per delicately stepped in the moderately crowded space. Words dribbled away into uncomfortable silence as more eyes found him, and Per ended up standing next to Emma.
Emma looked curiously at Per. Wheeler’s look wasn’t, as it distorted into a snarl. He didn’t care for the attention Per paid to Emma.
But it wasn’t Emma Per was interested in.
Killian watched as Per sniffed again. It was evident that Per wanted to grab the contents of the bag and rub his face in it. I’ve been there, Killian thought.
“What is that?” Per said. His voice was brusque and insistent.
Wheeler snarled again and Per stepped back, raising his hands placatingly in the air. “It’s the scent,” Per tried to explain. Wheeler tucked Emma behind him in a movement that Emma clearly didn’t care for.
She said, “Christopher, it’s not me. It’s her clothing Per is reacting to.”
“Whose?” Per demanded.
“There is a were who was recently changed,” Emma said calmly. “The were named Martinez thought he could use her to flush some of us out. He only caught me. ”
“Tell me where she is,” Per commanded.
Killian uncorked the bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild and poured it into his water glass. He knew it was the wrong glass, but he didn’t really care. He would have drunk it directly from the bottle if he thought it would help. But the thought of pissing off the newly mated Alpha and his mate, too, wasn’t really appealing. Instead, he drank deeply and watched the show along with the majority of the clan.
“We don’t know where she is,” Emma said with evident bitterness. “Martinez took her the same time as me. However, she wasn’t at the facility when the Elite Warriors came. Donovan brought some of her clothes from her apartment for the Cat Warriors to scent.” She held the bag out as validation.
Comprehension appeared on Wheeler’s face. The snarl slid away and grim amusement replaced it. “Guess I know who to send to Los Angeles,” he said.
Based on the look on Per’s face, he finally realized everyone was listening to the conversation with bated breath.
Emma handed the paper bag to Per, reaching around Wheeler’s huge body to do so.
Per took it as if it was a snake ready to bite him. He looked up and scanned the weres staring at him.
Welcome to the club. Killian smiled crookedly at Per and raised the full-again glass in wry salute. “Sure, and you’re banjaxed now, boyo,” he said loudly to Per. Then he drained the wine until every drop was gone.
* * *
Later Killian would do a mental accounting in his head because he was going to need to write Wheeler a large check. Nine bottles of Chateau Mouton Rothschild at about $500 a bottle had been drunk. Three bottles of Chinaco Negro Tequila Extra Anejo at about $200 a bottle had been consumed. Those had a little kick that had lasted about ten minutes. Someone had cheerfully broken out a case of Ole Smoky Moonshine Cherries, which were jars of cherries soaked in 100 proof moonshine and spices. Ironically, weres could eat a lot of alcohol-soaked cherries. Frankly, Killian had been amazed that one could get a buzz from the infused fruits. One could and one had.
There had also been a trip down the hill to the nearest liquor store where someone else drove. The weres had a consensus that Killian was officially shit-faced and/or officially in lala land and should not be allowed to drive his own Land Rover. Therefore, three had volunteered. One had driven and two had made sure Killian didn’t vomit in the back of the Rover. They’d ended up at a strip mall liquor store just on the verge of closing shop.
Killian didn’t bother with the handbasket but had grabbed the pint-sized grocery cart, which was the largest size available in the liquor store. He had plucked various bottles from the shelves as he perused each aisle, contemplating the wide selection available for such a small store. He was partial to tequila, but it turned out there were at least five flavors of rum he had not previously tried.
The three weres accompanying him were plainly mystified. Obviously Micah hadn’t spread the word, or he had felt sorry for Killian. One or the other.
“I can’t drink in here, right?” Killian called to the clerk, and it was half a question. He really wanted to try the Brinley Gold Coffee Rum, and he didn’t have the patience to wait until the bottle had been purchased and they were out in the SUV. “It says it’s the only coffee-flavored rum sold in the states,” he said to one of the other weres. “Coffee and alcohol together. Sounds bloody good.”
“No drinking on the premises!” the clerk yelled nervously. She stared apprehensively at the four large men in her store. It was close to quitting time, and she was ready to pack up until Killian staggered in followed by the three amused weres.
“What’s wrong with him?” a were named John asked Aydon.
“Why not mix the cheap rum with a cup of coffee instead of paying twenty dollars for a special bottle?” asked the other were, who was named Alex. “He’s just going to throw it all up later.”
“He’s been like this since we came back from Wyoming,” Aydon said. “He was pushing the Council team’s buttons, too. There was a huge fella who was some kind of friggin’ bear. I mean, big bear, too. Killian told a joke about how to tell what kind of bears were in the woods.”
“What joke?” Alex asked.
Aydon retold the joke and Killian, holding a bottle of mescal up to the light in order to look at the worm floating inside, said loudly, “Brown bears’ shite h
as berries and squirrel food in it. Grizzlies’ has bells and smells like pepper spray. Don’t tell the joke, if you canna get it right, Aydon.”
“Whatever,” Aydon said. “Don’t you have enough alcohol, Killian?”
Killian added the mescal to the basket and shook his head. “An Irishman can never have enough alcohol.” He peered at the vodka. “This is buttered popcorn-flavored vodka. Jay-sus be praised. I have to try this.” He looked at the bottle next to it. “And this one is glazed donut. Glazed fecking donut.”
“Glazed fecking were,” John said.
“Where wolf?” Killian said. “Get it? There wolf.” He pointed north. He gazed at the three confused weres and said, “You need to watch Young Frankenstein, you feckless idiots.”
“We’re going to close up,” the clerk said anxiously.
“I’m almost finished,” Killian said. “I need to get through tonight because I can still smell…well, I can still smell—” He shrugged and added to the over-full cart, a bottle of Dr. McGillicuddy’s Lemon Drop Schnapps and then, a bottle of Pennsylvania Dutch Egg Nog. “29.5 proof,” he said approvingly, “and it’s not Christmas yet. Shall we sing Christmas carols?”
Aydon sighed loudly. “We’re almost finished, hon,” he said to the clerk.
Killian got the cart to the front, and the clerk began to ring up the bottles. She became increasingly agitated as each item was added to the total.
“He’s not going to drink all of this, all by himself, really?” she asked. She looked at the three weres. “He’s not driving, is he?”
Aydon eyed the sheer amount of alcohol. “Oh, he won’t drink all of it, and no, he’s not driving.”
Killian examined the stand of miniature bottles next to the register. “Look, shots in wee bottles.” He grabbed ten in each hand and dropped them on the counter. He stopped for a moment to look at the clerk. “Great, a woman,” he said as if commenting on the weather.
“Don’t worry,” Aydon said to the clerk, “he’s just having female problems.”
John snorted with instantaneous laughter.
Aydon glared. “She knows what I mean.”
“She’s married,” Killian said, pointing at the clerk. “You’re married, oy?”
The clerk nodded.
Killian sighed wistfully. “I bet you fell in love with him at first sight.”
The clerk stared.
“I mean, you knew right away, I’m thinking,” Killian went on. “Women always know.” He thought about it. “I don’t think she knew, though. She was busy with worrying over her sister. But I can’t be holding that against her. If my sister had vanished, I would be worrying over her, too.”
The clerk glanced at the other weres and Aydon shrugged.
“She was kidnapped,” Killian added.
“And we rescued her,” Aydon told the clerk. “Very romantic, right?”
The clerk didn’t say anything. One of her hands dipped below the counter and hovered in place. Killian knew she was an instant away from pushing the panic buttom.
“Go ahead, keep ringing him up, or you won’t close up on time,” Alex prompted the clerk. He produced an American Express Centurion card. The clerk’s hand came up incrementally. She began to pull the bottles across the scanner.
“It wasn’t love at first sight,” the clerk finally said. “I think I hated him at first sight.”
“That’s it exactly!” Killian said enthusiastically. He frowned. “Think she hates everyone at first sight. Full of fire.” He snapped his fingers forcefully. “Full of energy and ready to do battle with the whole world.” He sighed ardently. “That’s a woman.”
The clerk unfroze completely and continued through the process. “Well, what are you doing here? If you love her, isn’t she worth fighting for?”
Killian stopped for a moment and considered the clerk’s words.
“Don’t bother wrapping them up,” Alex said as he put the various bottles back in the cart. “We’ll just put them in the back of the Rover.”
“That’s not exactly legal, I don’t think,” the clerk said.
“How would you fight for her?” Killian asked the clerk.
“I wouldn’t. I’m married and completely straight,” the clerk said and giggled. “But my husband went and asked my father for my hand in marriage. Even before Sam asked me. As if I would have said no.”
“She said her father hated…my kind,” Killian said.
“No one ever said life was going to be easy,” the clerk said, and eyed the bottle she was holding. “This brandy costs over $600.”
“I liked the picture on the label,” Killian said. He rubbed his chin. “I could go and ask her father.”
“Her father could kill you on sight,” Aydon suggested.
“Or he could be impressed with your moxie,” Alex added.
“Or he could chew off both of your legs and throw you in the nearest body of water,” John said. “They’re known to do that.” He leaned in toward the clerk. “I mean the lady’s family, you know.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Killian declared. “Thank you, lassie. You’re a lifesaver. If I can convince the woman, you’re invited to the wedding.”
The clerk shrugged. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
~
Now
For a long moment, the lights from above didn’t seem to penetrate the darkness of the hole. Ula hit the ground with her good leg and stepped off with her bad. She used the cane to support the weakness. If there was one thing that she had learned while her ankle was still impaired, it was that other weres tended to underestimate her. It was a mistake to underestimate any of the Bennetts. Bad things happened to otherworlders who made that mistake. Look at the weremonkey. Good luck with that hand healing before another month passes.
Ula stepped away from the tracks and turned her head to look at the platform. It was a different platform than the one on which she had arrived. It wasn’t that late for Paris, and it was fairly crowded. The group of anxiously waving people screeched at her in French. They waved their hands frantically as if that would make her suddenly dash for safety. She didn’t need the translation to understand what they were trying to communicate with her. “Get off the tracks! Fool! There’s a train coming!” were all evident.
The rush of the train would have alarmed Ula if she hadn’t been expecting it. There was also the blare of the horn. Someone was going to need some psychiatric counseling after this, and it wasn’t Ula. One exquisitely deft move to the side, and it brushed against her back, almost like a gentle push as the brakes were applied. Indeed the brakes had already been in use when she descended into the train’s arena. But as Ula had abruptly appeared, there was a sound of howling urgency to the application of force against the tracks.
I suppose I should have looked first. The train squealed to a halt. People yelled. One woman screamed and Ula winced.
The scent of the elusive Pitch shot into the darkness. Ula, with the train behind her and concealing her from the humans on the platform, followed. There was a mad scramble on the platform that indicated people were looking for her. Assumedly the very strange woman’s squished form would be found under the train. It probably appeared that she had been struck. The Council wasn’t going to like the unwanted attention, but Ula was not concerned with that. In addition, Ula didn’t need a constant round of questions. She did what weres do best. She became one with the blackness. The humans would search around. The gendarmes would be called. Searchers would bring illumination. Eventually, they would decide their eyes were playing tricks. Or that the woman had simply walked away, some unknown drunk that God above had been watching out for. There would be no blood, no evidence, and such a thing meant that those who had thought one thing had been mistaken.
Fifty yards down the side of the tunnel, and Ula could still hear their cries of consternation. Consternation was becoming confusion, but Ula wasn’t about to pop back up and show them all was well. One reason being that some of them had seen her
jump from above onto the train tracks, and that wasn’t something most normal human beings could do.
Instead, she tuned them out and followed her nose. Pitch’s scent was still obvious and less afraid. He hadn’t been protected outside. Here, he was more self-assured. He had friends in low places. A single determined were couldn’t find him, and moreover, what could she do?
The lights behind her had faded into obscurity. The sound of busy, frantic humans had diminished dramatically. Pitch’s scent led to a point and stopped. There was a door here. Ula’s eyes went wolf, and she searched the vicinity. It wasn’t an obvious door. Instead, it blended with the walls, seemingly part of the typical makeup of the train tunnel. There was a blue light mounted on the wall that wasn’t lit. Broken? Not receiving electricity?
Further down the tunnel Ula could see another blue light that was turned on. There was a straightaway, and she could see the light as something being hundreds of meters distant. But Pitch’s scent didn’t go there. It went where she was standing and permeated the walls. It did not go down the tunnel.
She stepped up to the wall and touched it with the cane. The silver wolf head tapped against stone but not solid stone. Stone that covered some kind of frame. Stone that was made to look like the rest of the tunnel. The wall moved just a tiny bit in response to the cane’s rap. Ula took that as an invitation. She would have knocked, but somehow she had a sneaking suspicion that the door wouldn’t open. She pushed. The wall jiggled. It was some kind of concealed entrance.
Well, I wasn’t expecting a grand gate with a sign above it announcing the lair of the Council, was I? Ula consulted with her memory of how to open a secret door. All she could come up with were scenes from Scooby Doo, Where are You? If there had been a bookcase next to the area, she would have checked all the titles and pulled all the books out looking for a secret door pull.
Luckily, she found the line where the door opened. Her fingers ran up the edge and touched where it went to the right. A little puff of air came from inside, and she tilted her head curiously. She sniffed and found Pitch again. Very fresh. There were also the scents of many weres passing this way, but she disregarded those.
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