4.0 - Howl Of The Fettered Wolf

by Krista Walsh

  Of course a man like Gabriel Mulligan would choose to rent in an area like this, she thought as she stopped in front of his closed office door.

  The man’s cavalier smile flashed in her mind, and she returned it as though he already stood in front of her, plying his charms. Gabe had struck her as a decent man who spent a good amount of time on the rough side of life, less out of an actual enjoyment of the lifestyle and more for the convenience. She guessed the rent here was cheap.

  In spite of the impression the building gave, his door greeted any potential clients with an air of class and professionalism. She crossed her arms as she scanned the fancy white letters stamped on the thick, smoky glass. Gabriel Mulligan, Private Investigator.

  Of the six survivors who had walked out of Jermaine’s trap, Gabe had been the only one to express a desire to do something with what they’d learned of the warlock’s shady endeavors. Despite Gabe’s seeming immaturity, he had voiced a determination to prevent other people like Jermaine from rising up in the city and exploiting the less powerful. At the time, she’d admired his passion, but figured he wouldn’t act on it by himself. It would have required effort, and he didn’t strike her as the type to enjoy extra work. But he had surprised her. He’d opened his business a few weeks later, and his reputation had only grown throughout the city since then.

  Although the entire experience of the locked room remained with Vera in sharp detail, the moment that stood out for her was from after their escape. For a few minutes, she and Gabe had been alone in Jermaine’s wrecked and empty apartment. Gabe’s sunglasses, broken in the struggle, had fallen from his face, and their eyes had met.

  That moment had come back to Vera a million times since that day. As though it were happening again and again in real time and not just in her memory. His eyes, a fascinating swirl of green and gold, catching on hers, her stomach jerking with indescribable sensation. As though his mind was diving into hers, swimming through her thoughts and memories, trying to draw them out.

  She knew she hadn’t been the only one deeply affected by that glance. As a half-Gorgon, Gabe was denied the intimacy of looking anyone in the eye in his day-to-day encounters. From his surprise that she was still a living, breathing being after he’d broken the connection, she guessed she was the first person he’d ever shared that experience with.

  That alone was enough to create another flutter in her stomach.

  Yet she’d turned him down when he’d invited her out for drinks. The decision had made sense at the time, and it still did. She was too busy to entertain the idea of going on a date. Since then, there had been a few times when she’d considered giving him a call, but something had always come up to prevent her. The quarterly accounts that had needed to be done, Baxter choosing to eat something he shouldn’t have and winding up in the animal hospital for three days, a sudden inventory crisis that had kept her working late for two weeks. There was always something.

  But still, he’d been there in the back of her mind, waiting patiently for a day when she had a free minute to spare.

  Then, out of the blue, Allegra Rossi had waltzed into her shop early last week and had made a passing comment about their mutual acquaintance. Allegra had seemed surprised when she’d found out that Gabe hadn’t filled Vera in on the trouble rising in New Haven.

  At first Vera had thought that was a strange reaction. Allegra had been the least interested in staying connected with the others from the locked room, so it didn’t make sense that she would expect Gabe to speak with anyone, let alone her. That surprising emotion had faded when she’d then gathered from the conversation that Gabe had planned to come to the shop to see her, but had never found his way.

  The idea created a pitter-patter around Vera’s heart, and she smoothed down her hair before reaching for the doorknob.

  Gabe’s deep voice drifted through the door, and she hesitated before stepping inside. Based on the silence after he spoke, she guessed he was on the phone. He sounded so sure of himself, so confident, as though no problem that came into his office was too small for his attention.

  At his assured laugh, a smidge of Vera’s reluctance at asking him for help wore away. It might be interesting to have him work with her, to see him in action. And if it protected the book…

  She waited for the click to indicate he’d hung up the phone, then twisted the handle and stepped into his shabby yet surprisingly homey office. A quick glance around the room revealed the filing cabinets, the coat rack tucked beside the door, and the wide desk to the right of the window. She noted that, aside from the telephone sitting on the corner of the desk, no technology marred the classic appearance of the space. Papers were stacked on the blotter across the center, with a tumbler and a bottle of whiskey perched beside them.

  It looked more like a movie set than a modern agency. He even had a Maltese Falcon poster on the wall.

  Finally, her gaze settled on him.

  He sat at the desk with his shoulders stooped as he scribbled notes on a piece of paper, his thick mane of mussed brown hair brushing over the tops of his ears. His dark sunglasses were perched on his nose, protecting anyone who came into his office from accidentally meeting his green-and-gold gaze. From his sloped posture, Vera guessed there would be dark circles under his eyes when he removed them.

  His attire might have been appropriate for a Saturday afternoon of overtime rather than the middle of the day during office hours, with a thick wool sweater over a collared shirt and faded jeans. But his broad shoulders and thick muscles filled them out in a way that likely made most people ignore the lack of jacket and tie.

  His lips were pursed in concentration as he wrote, his brow furrowed. A true detective at work.

  Any illusion of dignity crumbled, however, when he looked up and recognized her. His mouth fell open and he jumped to his feet, knocking over the tumbler of whiskey. The amber liquid spilled across his papers and he cursed, using his sleeve to brush off the spill as he righted the glass and set it farther away from the damage.

  “Vera,” he said, after he shifted his files to the dry side of his desk. “Hi. How are you? You look…great.”

  He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck.

  Vera hadn’t moved since her entrance, too awed by the spectacle she’d incited. She blinked and scanned him over, amazed at the change in the man who’d been so sure of himself on the phone. She’d assumed he’d be surprised to see her, but this reaction surpassed her expectations.

  “Hello, Gabriel,” she greeted, and pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to prevent herself from showing any other reaction. She had no intention of letting it slip that she found his display endearing. She’d come here for business, not to give away the fact that she’d been thinking about calling him for nine months. “How are you?”

  He aimed for his usual roguish grin and widened his arms to embrace the room. “Doing well, as you can see. It might not look like much, but this is now one of the most sought-after private detective agencies in the otherworld.”

  She allowed herself a smile. “So I’ve heard. You should be very proud of yourself.”

  “And you,” he said, swinging one hand toward her. “Your bookshop looks like it’s doing well. I walk by it from time to time.”

  His comment brought Allegra’s words to mind. Vera wanted to ask why he hadn’t stopped in to say hello, but this didn’t feel like the right time to be prying. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, if she’d misread his frazzled display on her entering his office. Was it possible he’d been avoiding her? Was he displeased by her visit?

  Her concern didn’t stop her from noticing the way he pressed his fingers to his temple. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Just fine,” he said, in a distracted manner that suggested he was anything but fine. “Working on a bit of a headache. Do you ever have those days where it’s like someone else is taking up space in your brain? Your thoughts are bouncing around in your head and you can’t get them to
settle?”

  Vera didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to explain that what he described was her usual state of existence. She couldn’t remember the last time her brain had shut down long enough for her to have a moment’s peace.

  She just hoped his sudden headache had nothing to do with her.

  He cleared his throat and dropped his fingers to the edge of his desk. “Sorry. You didn’t come here to watch me struggle with my internal conflict. Let me clean up this mess and you can tell me why you did come. Have a seat.”

  He gestured to one of the chairs on the outside of his desk as he crossed the room to the filing cabinet and pulled a roll of paper towel out of the top drawer. On his way back to the desk, the roll slipped, and a trail of white sheets dipped to the floor, tripping him. He swore, then tore off the entire section. After wadding it up, he pressed it into the whiskey spill on his desk.

  “Sorry about this,” he said, and some of the urgency had left his voice. “I’m usually not so jumpy when people walk through my door. I just…wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  Vera wondered if he’d been about to say something else, but let the matter rest. If he wanted to tell her, he would.

  She refused to allow herself to feel disappointed by his reaction. She hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped he’d be pleased. Maybe even renew his invitation for drinks. Now she recognized how absurd such a hope had been. She’d turned him down nine months ago. That was a long time for situations to change.

  For now, she just wanted to get to the point, return to the shop, and put him out of his misery. It didn’t seem like he wanted her to be here, and her to-do list wasn’t going to complete itself while she was gone.

  She waited until Gabe tossed the bundle of paper towels into the garbage can on the floor beside the desk and settled in his chair across from her. Although she couldn’t see his eyes, she sensed that he was watching her. Heat infused her cheeks, but she pretended as though she were as calm and cool as she wished to be. Crossing one leg over the other, she eased back in her chair and folded her hands on her lap.

  The corner of Gabe’s mouth twitched upward in a smile as he clasped his hands on his desk. “I know you’re not usually one to say a lot, but I can’t read your mind. How about you tell me why you’re here.”

  Vera pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth again to calm her sudden flare of embarrassment. It wasn’t in her nature to speak first, so she’d fallen into the habit of staying silent. In her distraction over his strange behavior, she’d almost forgotten her reason for being here.

  She cleared her throat and said, “Last week, a man broke into my shop. My business partner, Ara, was there and saw him. She set one of my dogs after him and he got away. He returned last night. This time, he made it far enough into the shop to suggest that he was going after something in particular. Something…dangerous.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows rose over his sunglasses, and he leaned back in his chair. “What kind of dangerous are we talking about?”

  “A book. Very old and very powerful.” Vera adjusted herself in her chair and considered the man across from her.

  Despite his glasses, his face was open and interested. Trusting him would mean taking a big risk, but she had no desire to hold back. Even if she weren’t attracted to him, she believed she would have felt comfortable telling him, thanks to their shared experience in the locked room. Allegra had voiced it first, and Vera found she was in no place to argue: whatever Jermaine had set in motion seemed to have bound them together. Strangely, she felt as though Gabe had as much to lose if the book was stolen as she did.

  Ridiculous, of course, but she couldn’t shake the sense that it was true.

  Taking the gamble, she said, “The Book of the Fettered Wolf has been passed down through my family for seven hundred years. It’s older than that, but no one really knows its origins. According to the stories, it tells you how to master the weaknesses and abilities of every known species of the otherworld, which, as you can imagine, puts all of us at risk. Whoever possesses the book could find whatever they wanted to know about Gorgons, for example, and cast a spell to tear you apart or harness your energy. It could destroy our world. Now someone is after it. Fortunately, it’s not written in any modern language, so it would take some time to translate, but I still wouldn’t want it in any hands but my own. I don’t know how the thief learned of its existence, or where it was kept, but last night he came within minutes of stealing it.”

  Gabe’s throat bobbed with a swallow, and he ran his fingers over his hair to cup the back of his neck. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Vera didn’t answer, allowing him time to process what she’d told him.

  He grabbed the pen sitting on top of the drying file folders and tapped it against the side of his hand. “There’s no one you can think of who knows about the book?”

  Vera tilted her head to watch him. “Only Ara. She’s been with me since we were children, and my parents told her the story at the same time they told me. She’s been the joint keeper of the book ever since and cares as much for its safety as I do.”

  “And there’s no possibility that she might have —”

  “Betrayed me? Absolutely not.” She voiced her opinion in such a way that left no room for argument. She trusted Ara with her life, her dogs’ lives, and her shop. Any thought that the dryad would turn on her was out of the question.

  He nodded. “I believe you. I just want to get the whole picture. Where do you keep this Fettered Wolf?”

  Vera shifted again, guessing what his reaction to her answer would be. “Previously, I kept it in a safe hidden behind one of the bookcases in my restricted section, warded by a protective spell.”

  Even as she described the situation, she realized how incredible it was that the thief had come so close to making his way in.

  “Is it still there now?”

  “No,” she said. “I moved it to another safe after the man made his second attempt.”

  “What about security systems?”

  “We have an alarm hooked up to both the front and back doors and one connected to the back room where I keep my most valuable books, both mundane and occult-related. But this man managed to disable them without any obvious trouble.”

  “Just a basic alarm system with a number code?”

  Vera narrowed her eyes. “Yes. But the exterior system has additional magical coverage.”

  “Which any smart warlock or sorceress would know how to bypass,” Gabe pointed out. Vera bit down on her tongue. She didn’t want to tell him his business, but did he honestly think she hadn’t thought to cover all bases? If it was so easy for a thief with arcane knowledge to get around the alarm, she’d have to have a word with Ezel about making sure the new additions did the job properly. “It sounds like you need to upgrade your system. I can refer you to a few people who understand the needs of us otherworldly folk.” He grabbed a piece of paper and started scribbling.

  She blinked. She’d already suspected he wasn’t happy to have her here, but she would have thought he’d at least put in some effort to help before sending her on her way. “Is that all you have to offer?”

  “It’s a good first step,” he said. “I don’t see the point in hauling out a flamethrower when a lighter would suffice, do you?”

  He asked the question with a smile, but after her horrible sleep, the stress of having someone break into her shop, and the battle she’d fought to convince herself to come here, Gabe’s answer was the last thing Vera wanted to hear. Her blood fizzled with irritation and discouragement that he had proved her right so quickly. Ara never stopped telling her that she didn’t need do everything on her own, but here was a man with a reputation for solving problems, and his advice to her was just to improve her security system, a solution she’d already thought of? She could have saved herself the trip here and used the time to think up a better plan herself.

  It didn’t help that she already felt like a fool for expecting a very different
kind of reception.

  “Thank you, Gabe. That’s sound advice,” she said, and rose to her feet.

  His mouth fell open and his eyebrows lifted. “Wait, Vera —”

  “I’ve wasted enough of your time, and you’re probably right. I’m sure a simple solution is all that’s needed. Be sure to send me the bill for the consultation. I’ll handle it from here.”

  “Hey, now,” he said and stood up, but she’d already reached the door.

  She closed it behind her, wishing she could close off her frustration as well. This was why she didn’t see the point in asking other people for help. In the end, she always had to take care of business herself.

  4

  Vera rolled back and forth in her rocking chair as the fire popped and crackled beside her, staring into the shadows dancing around her kitchen.

  Heat flamed in her cheeks as she replayed her afternoon in a loop, her emotions shifting in time with her thoughts. When she thought about her hopes and expectations on arriving at Gabe’s office, embarrassment rose up and choked her. Then irritation replaced it as she remembered his advice. Finally, shame drowned out everything else at how she’d left things with him.

  She’d been foolish. She’d stormed out of his office without giving him a chance to offer any other assistance or explanation. Now she looked like an idiot for going to him for help and then getting offended at the tiniest provocation.

  Her disappointment and mortification, heaped on top of her preference for dealing with the issue on her own, had made her rude, and she wasn’t proud of her behavior. Her father certainly wouldn’t have been impressed with her display.

  Another wave of shame passed through her, and a small groan rumbled in the back of her throat as she brushed her hair behind her ear. She pressed the pads of her fingers against her lips to silence herself. At the noise, Vidar lifted his head from the floor to stare at her, then yawned and lay back down. Clearly her emotional turmoil was no reason for him to be disturbed.