I will start by saying that all is well, but little Chad gave me quite a scare a month ago or so. He’s very active and growing bolder every day. I am trying to make the house as safe for him as possible, but I don’t want to restrain him too much either, so he is generally allowed everywhere. One evening, he snuck into my office while the window was open and ended up falling to the front yard. I was alarmed by a horrific cry and immediately looked outside, only to find Chad curled into a ball, with one of his legs twisted.
The poor thing was so scared, and I have no background in veterinary sciences. Desperate, since he was in too much pain to let me see what exactly happened, I put him into a box and drove to the clinic for the treatment of small animals. I expected disgust or fright, and demanded a promise in writing that nothing about our boy would be revealed. The doctor was quite wonderful, and as it turns out, she breeds tropical spiders herself, so instead of fearing Chad, she demanded I allow her to visit him.
His leg is now mended, and Miss Constantine is most interested in helping us care for him. I initially thought she was only motivated by academic curiosity, but she’s been incredibly tender with him. I believe her presence will be an asset to our co-parenting endeavour.
Please, do write us of your current whereabouts and visit soon. Not a day goes by without Chad napping on your pillow.
Sincerely,
Drake Nguyen
Next to the signature was a fuzzy spot with two claw-like shapes stamped onto the paper—the imprint of Chad’s front leg. Drake knew how to tickle Jack’s longing for a few weeks of stability.
Jack was about to doze off, since there was two hours left until the train arrived in Tarheim, but then he spotted a dash of ginger fur passing the door and sat up in alarm. Roux triggered a Pavlovian response in him, and Jack hadn’t even worked out if the Chat really was gay. Or interested in humans, for that matter.
But there was no other way than to seek an answer through experimentation, so Jack stood and quickly left his compartment. Since the little argument about the reward, Roux had once again become obtuse, eluding Jack, despite them heading to the same place. He could only hope that a week was enough for Roux to calm down about this whole thing, because Jack really wanted to get his hands on his wiggling tail.
He sped up when the chat’s red head disappeared behind a door at the end of the car. He entered the train’s restaurant car in time to see Roux exit it at the other end. Maneuvering between waiters and customers dining in the bright, elegant space, Jack then passed the second-class eatery before entering what looked like a waiting room on wheels. People of all ages sat on hard wooden benches, their luggage resting on shelves overhead or blocking the floor. Almost everyone was engaged in loud conversation, which was further embellished by the clucking of a chicken and the distant sound of a fiddle.
It was all fun and games until one had to travel in this noise and squalor for several hours at a time. Which apparently Roux was doing, because he reached the end of the wagon and jumped up to a top bunk with the agility Jack had learned to expect from him. Two men were already sitting underneath, so Roux pulled up his legs, and then closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.
Jack licked his lips and approached his fellow venator through the obstacle course presented by luggage and toddlers playing in the middle of the aisle. “Roux Chat-Bonnes? What a pleasant surprise. I thought you took yesterday’s train,” he said, even though really he had no idea. But the full moon was tonight, and in his experience, Roux always tried to give himself time to spare.
Roux’s eyes snapped open, pupils so wide they covered almost all the green. “Jack Addison. I’ve been busy.”
Jack grinned at him and stood in front of the bunk, stealing a glance at Roux’s big, fluffy feet. Were they alone, he might have touched them under some pretense. “Since we’re working together tonight, how about discussing this over food?”
Roux’s whiskers bristled, and he cocked his head. “I don’t think we should do that amongst so many ears eager for gossip.”
The man next to him snorted. “Go on, chat. I’ve seen it all.”
Whatever that meant, Jack didn’t want to know. “We could order to my compartment. I hear they have cream from some rare local breed.”
“I suppose this is a business matter,” Roux said with a deep sigh, as if Jack had asked him to dig ditches with him. He grabbed his bag and jumped off the bunk, landing inches away. Sadly, he was wearing the jacket with the venator emblem at the back, so there wasn’t much opportunity for a sneaky touch.
Jack still marveled at the grace of his movements. “You might as well take all your things. We should arrive at Tarheim station in less than two hours.”
Roux looked back, and his ears flattened. “This is all I’ve got. I like to travel light, as one never knows when one might need to leave for a job.”
Jack briefly pressed his lips together. He wondered what possessed Roux to travel second class in the first place. He did enough jobs to afford better conditions—something very important in their line of work.
“Wise. I only have one backpack on me too,” he said, acutely aware of the big green eyes following his every misstep. Fortunately, he managed to avoid stepping on a chicken.
When they finally reached his compartment, he sat down with relief and pressed the button that summoned a member of staff. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Roux scrutinized the place and eventually took off his coat before sitting down opposite Jack. He pulled up his feet and leaned against the wall. His rapier was attached to his belt, as if to threaten anyone who might approach.
“I’ve heard that during the full moon, werewolves go rabid, so that is when the local population needs most protection. But it’s also when we strike, because the werewolves will be least tactical about their actions,” Roux said, all work, no play.
He could be such a bore sometimes.
Jack pursed his lips. “That’s why the governments created the reservations. So that they could have space to hunt and live as they wish without putting humans in danger. If this pack decided to shift beyond the reservation, and so close to the full moon at that, then they deserve what’s coming. They might be werewolves, but they are sentient. They know what they’re doing.”
Roux sat up straighter, and it tickled something in Jack’s stomach to see him so interested. “Exactly. We will apprehend them only if they really are leaving their territory during the full moon. But I doubt the negotiator would be lying about it. Unless she was given the wrong information. We will find out.”
Jack loved all this we business. Roux must have understood that this was a job for at least two venators, and that half the reward was better than none.
Jack shrugged. “The werewolves in Prague heard about it too. They’re really worried about their reputation as a species. If something happens tonight, it reflects on them all. And there are always those people who spread false rumors about minority groups. Nothing new. If they’re not breaking the law, we might be leaving Tarheim with empty hands,” he said, even though he really hoped they would not. Then again, if the pack was just the victim of vicious rumors, then Jack might pay them a visit once Roux was on his way.
“You’ve visited their district? I’ve been too busy with a rat the size of a horse. It wasn’t even all that hard to kill, but really ugly, and none of the villagers wanted to approach it.”
“So they called a chat?” Jack snorted, but Roux wasn’t laughing. Oops.
“Maybe let’s just stick to the job at hand. Anything you found out about the werewolves that we wouldn’t have learned at the Academy?”
The knocking at the compartment door stopped their conversation, and while the food was the hook Jack had pulled Roux in with, he was still frustrated by the disturbance. But once the waiter left, Jack wasn’t even sure if he wanted to reveal his secret weapon. Too bad Roux had too good of a memory to forget where they’d been interrupted.
“City werewolves beli
eve those who still choose to live in the wild resent the fact that they are bound to one place. By nature, they are a traveling species, so the reservations are restrictive, even if most are quite vast. That’s why the temptation to break the contract with humans is so strong. That and, you know, that whole alpha predator thing,” Jack said with a wide smile.
Roux squinted at him. “What alpha predator thing? You mean that they think they’re better than everyone else?”
Jack shrugged and offered Roux a bottle of beer. “Yes. I hear they’re keen to assert their dominance over sentient creatures, if you know what I mean,” he said, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading down his thighs and abdomen. Just like the gnomes, a werewolf wouldn’t have to know Jack wasn’t defenseless against him.
Roux declined the beer, but leaned forward, his fur bristled. “You mean…” he cleared his throat. “Physically? That’s repulsive. We need to make sure the locals have adequate protection.”
Jack tried to keep his smile in check. Oh, Roux, always the prude. “I’m assuming they’re locking their houses well at night, but the truth is that tensions have been high around the reservations for a long time. Even with the truce in place, no one can predict if a single werewolf doesn’t go running wild and hunts where he shouldn’t. When the full moon is up, they lose it and look for creatures to mate with.” Jack leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “But then again, apparently, the werewolves don’t need to attack anyone for that purpose. There were even hybrid babies born to some of the local women. It’s all hush-hush, but people have different tastes.”
“I understand that there might be an appeal—” Roux stumbled over words, but the door opened and a waiter came in with their food, saving him from the babble. It was too bad, because Jack was more than interested in finding out if Roux himself saw the appeal of intimate interspecies relations.
So he decided to lay everything on the line, and spoke as soon as they were alone. “I decided to bait them,” he said, producing the little vial he’d gotten at an ungodly price.
Roux hissed so loudly cream sprayed over his whiskers. “Don’t be ridiculous and put that away. They go mad for it. If you put even a drop of that anywhere near me, I promise you we will be working separately!”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I am not putting this on you. We could sprinkle it over a piece of fabric. You know, find a convenient spot to entrap them and wait until they come.”
“No. Categorically no.” Roux wouldn’t sit still, shifting from side to side with his chalice of sweet cream. “Also, that is, as you said, entrapment. We are supposed to see if they truly leave the reservation. and apprehend them if they do, not lure them out!”
Jack raised his hands. “Whoa! If you think I want to lure them out for the bounty, you’re mistaken.” Now that he thought about it, were any other venators doing just that? Luring werewolves beyond their borders for monetary gain? It definitely was against the code of conduct but... would people actually do it? Jack’s sexcapades weren’t exactly clean business, either.
“Good. Because I wouldn’t stand for that, no matter how much I resent werewolves. As long as they respect the law, we will let them be. It’s just so frustrating that one species can spoil so much for everyone else.”
Jack frowned and quickly pushed a praline into his mouth. “What? Do other creatures hate werewolves? That’s the first time I’m hearing about it.”
Roux sighed deeply, glancing out the window. He had a lovely profile. Was his pink nose actually cold? “They’re often violent. And because of them, new laws have been set in place that affect other creatures. Fortunately, chats are recognized to be peaceful communities, but we still got slammed with the flea-check law. It’s degrading. Chats are always clean, and we take great pride in our grooming.”
Jack stared at the graceful curve of Roux’s forehead and the puffy muzzle that looked so soft he wanted to pet it. “I get it. Everyone always assumes I’m a monstrophobe, because of my father.”
Roux turned to him with a huff. “Poor you. What kind of persecution do you go through because of that?”
The persecution of not everyone wanting to fuck him, but Jack couldn’t exactly share that. “In Berlin I went to this restaurant that employs creatures who accidentally crossed into our realm from their own--so basically interdimensional orphans--and when they found out my name, all the waiters started suddenly avoiding my table. I felt like a pariah through no fault of my own!”
“Oh no. Must have been awful.” Roux yawned, as if his sarcasm wasn’t clear enough.
Jack leaned back. “What the hell does that mean? It’s discrimination! You’re going to just laugh at all my problems, because you think yours are worse?”
“Yes! I will actually. You are ridiculous. When we first met, you told me I’m only a guest in your world. And now you’re playing the victim?”
Had he said that? He didn’t remember.
“It was a long time ago,” Jack said but knew it came out flat. Would Roux never really open up to him because of a misstep two years back? So unreasonable.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to solve this issue right away, because their train started rolling into the station, and they needed to quickly gather their belongings.
Soon enough, Jack would meet a pack of werewolves and wouldn’t have to deal with a snotty chat.
Chapter 3
Tarheim was a small town, and apart from a woman and her child, Roux and Jack were the only passengers getting off the train. The sun was still peeking through the clouds, casting its glow on the hillsides around them, but werewolves would be hiding in the woods, way beyond town borders, which meant that the traveling wasn’t over for the day.
After the way their conversation had ended, Jack didn’t feel like having another one, so instead they dealt with all that was necessary―registered with the local authorities, who gave them further information on the rogue pack, bought some provisions, and paid a local man to drive them to the place where the pack had last been seen.
“It’s ‘bout time they sent in some venators. The people here will be grateful if you get rid of those dirty fur sacks. A moon ago, they left some traps around the perimeter, but nothing came of it,” their driver said. He was a middle-aged man with silver hair and skin that had been made leathery after years of working outdoors. As he said this, his gaze inevitably swiped over Roux, and Jack couldn’t help the stab of anger in his gut.
“You are in luck. Roux Chat-Bonnes here is the first non-human venator in history. He is the top tier.”
Roux glanced at him with a hint of smile that made Jack’s heart beat faster. If only Roux let him on all that fur, Jack would cuddle him into oblivion.
“I guess it takes one to know one,” said the driver.
Roux shook his head. “Werewolves don’t even come from the same dimension as chats.”
Even Jack hadn’t known that, so it was hard to imagine the villager in the driver seat would.
The man sighed. “The way I see it, all creatures are the same. They invade our land and want special treatment. No offense, but that’s what it looks like from here,” he said, nodding at Roux.
Jack watched the houses as they passed by. He couldn’t avoid noticing iron shutters or bars that could be locked in front of doors. A group of children played on the porch of their house, but they were gone the moment they spotted Roux.
Jack wondered how it was for a chat to travel on their own.
Roux didn’t grant the driver an answer, focusing on the beautiful alpine vistas. Did his senses allow him to hear more? Would he be able to smell the werewolves from far away? Did he even see color? Some creatures were colorblind… and Jack had so many questions.
Why did Roux even go through all the hurdles to become a venator if he could have thrived in his own community?
Roux’s nostrils flared. “They’ve been in close proximity. But it’s hard to say how far away. Wind can carry aromas.”
Jack inhaled deeply, but could
smell nothing other than pine, grass, and fresh air. He understood the reasons behind the man’s prejudice, but Roux had done nothing to deserve having to listen to this. Jack was glad when they reached their destination at the edge of the forest. The light had become warmer as the sun started its descent toward the horizon, casting a golden glow on the monumental hills covered by woodland.
He cleared his throat and pointed toward the glistening river nearby. “Let’s freshen up before this all starts.”
Roux nodded and got off the cart without even saying goodbye to the driver. To be fair, Jack could see where Roux was coming from. With his bag flung over one arm, he walked with such grace Jack forgot to follow for a moment, and had to catch up with him.
At the bank of the narrow river, Roux took off his jacket, and then the shirt, revealing all the fur Jack wanted to slide his fingers into. Would he take his pants off as well? They were both male after all. On the other hand, Jack might have asked Roux about his junk one time too many.
Roux sat in the grass and pulled a brush out of his backpack. The bristles seemed stiff but bent a bit when Roux began brushing his arm.
Jack decided he’d set an example and took off all of his clothes, stretching in the warm sun. “Are you not getting into the water?” he asked, stepping off the grassy shore and into the stream that didn’t look nearly as icy as it was. But Jack made his expression stay neutral and only scowled when he faced away from the chat.
Roux inched closer and dipped his brush in the water but shook his head. “Not exactly my idea of fun.”
“Yeah but you said chats liked to be clean so...”
“I’m cleaning myself now.”
Jack turned around and faced Roux in all his naked glory. The shallow stream was slowly numbing his feet and calves, but that was fine as long as Roux got the chance to appreciate what he might have, if he only reached out. “So you only brush? Like a Golden Retriever?”
Jack Addison vs. a Whole World of Hot Trouble - The Complete Series Page 8