A streetcar ran by, clanging the bell as it trundled along the steel tracks. The long cables ran down to the back of the metal bullet, providing power for the lumbering mammoth. Around it smaller cars zipped and dodged, looking for a way to sneak around and in front of the monster as it dumped commuters and picked up new ammunition.
“All we have is a name and even that might not be real. She could have changed her name or gotten married or just disappeared.” A trail of young children toddled down the sidewalk, hanging onto a piece of rope with a teacher at the lead. A small caravan of clothing racks rumbled behind them, blouses and scarves waving in the wind and threatening to break away and smother the streetcar in a revolution of color. The gears began to grind, albeit slowly, in my addled brain.
I dialed Mike Winters. He picked it up on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Mike, it’s Rebecca Desjardin. I’m sorry to bother you but I have a quick question—did Janey mention anything about her students? Any problems, any kids who were a handful for her?”
“No.” The confusion was evident in his voice. “She had just transferred to that school, actually. It was an emergency assignment. The old teacher was hospitalized with a stroke. She took over his class, a last-minute thing.”
I waved my hands in the air, mimicking writing. Bran scrambled around the apartment as I kept talking. “What school was this? And what course?”
“David Thomson High School. She took over his history classes not too long before she died.” He stumbled over the words for a minute. “Do you think it was one of her students?” The words became frantic, tumbling out one after the other. “One of those kids? She wasn’t even there long enough to find the teachers’ lounge, never mind start a fight with a student or give one a reason to have a grudge against her.”
“I’m exploring all possibilities.” I put on my soothing tone. “Just following up on some leads.”
“It was just a temp assignment. It wasn’t planned. You think it was a kid?” Disbelief and dismay came out in every word.
“It’s just routine.” My fingers itched to have something to do. “I’ll let you know when I have something concrete to report.”
“The kids went out to the farm.” His words were clipped and terse. “They went a bit wild. A lot of crying and yelling.”
I nodded. “Can’t blame them.”
“I wanted to, you know. I wanted to.” Mike wheezed into the receiver. “We didn’t go to Ruth’s funeral because it would have been too much. They can’t handle it, not all at once.”
“I understand.” I closed my eyes. “I’ll be in touch.” A few more mumbled sympathies and I hung up the phone.
Bran shoved a pen and notepad at me. “Write.” While I scribbled the information, he peered over the countertop at me. “A student, hmm?”
“Roll with me here.” My writing moved across the empty pad in huge, looping spirals. “One of the first things every kit learns about is how to control ourselves, how to not Change when it’s not a good time. When it’s not safe. How to deal with the overwhelming amount of odors in the air around us and how not to react to them.”
“Like what?” He stared down at the wild lines. My notes looked like wild balloon herds migrating across the page.
“For example, when a woman’s… Well, at that time of the month when she’s most fertile.” I felt the heat rise on my cheeks. “Maybe you’ve noticed or maybe not—we smell pretty good. Well, multiply that by a thousand and you get what an average Felis male has to deal with. The rush and emotions…” I closed my eyes. “It’s not as bad for the women, but we get pretty horny at times. To put it bluntly.”
“And when you hit puberty…”
“You learn how to control yourself, what to do and what not to do to stay in command of your urges. It’s the same as with humans, but a whole lot harder. And that’s with the help of other Felis and family around.” I jabbed the pen down at the words scribbled on the paper. “If this kid’s grown up with little or no training in self-control he’s a ticking time bomb ready to go off.”
“And when he walked into that classroom and spotted Janey Winters, smelled her…” Bran nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “It must have been pretty overwhelming.”
“Exactly.” I picked up the phone and dialed Information. “But I don’t think he attacked Janey to rape her. I think he was looking for a kindred spirit. He knew she was different, like him.”
“He might have just wanted someone to talk to.” Brandon picked up the empty coffee cups and put them in the sink. “Raging hormones and all.”
“Even as adults we have trouble keeping our hormones in check.” I scribbled down a number. “How many horny teenage boys chase after girls daily and vice versa? Compound that with a Felis bloodline…” I shook my head. “Odds stacked against him double.”
“So why send me the photograph?” Bran asked. “Whether he killed her intentionally or by accident he didn’t have to do that.”
“A cry for help, maybe.” I fumbled with the phone. “His mom can’t tell him what he is and he can’t find any information on his ‘condition’ because the Felis keep that sort of thing under wraps. You can’t Google us and find anything other than myth and rumors. He can’t go to the cops after killing Janey and ask them what he is. He can’t ask Janey ’cause she’s dead. Maybe he figured you’d investigate and tell him what he is.” I couldn’t help smirking. “No better way to find out what sort of freak you are than to go to a reporter who loves freaks.”
“Only you.” Bran shook his head. “A shrink would have a field day with that.”
“There’s a reason why most Felis avoid working in the psychiatric field.”
Bran grinned, watching while I spoke briefly to the operator then to the school secretary. He flinched when I turned the air blue with my swearing and hung up.
“They won’t give me any information. Seems they’re concerned about privacy issues.”
“Well, can’t blame them.” Bran shrugged when I glared at him. “Hey, they’re worried about psychos and stalkers these days. Not the same atmosphere as we grew up in.”
“Speak for yourself. I spent more time playing in the long grass stalking imaginary monsters than you did, I bet.” I rapped the end of the pen on the table. “Mind you, it might be all for naught. Without a name we’re dealing with dozens of kids, maybe hundreds.”
Brandon turned the water on briefly and splashed liquid into the cups. “She might have changed her last name from Wright. Or gotten married. Remember, it’s not the sin it used to be to have a child out of wedlock or whatever it’s called these days. Lots of men out there who don’t mind being stepfathers.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, those wacky kids these days.”
“Shut up and grab your jacket.” I strode across the room, eyes darting about as I looked for my own.
He didn’t move, leaning on the counter. “It’s almost six o’clock, girl. Ain’t no schooling going on right now.”
My eyes went to the window again. True enough, the shadows were beginning to creep across the street. The streetcars continued to grumble and groan their way across the intersection but with more and more weary people just wanting to get home.
“Damn.” I shook my head. “No wonder the secretary sounded so pissy. Must have caught her on the way out the door.”
“Probably.” Bran opened the refrigerator door. “How about steaks for dinner? Get you geared up for hitting the school in the morning.” I opened my mouth to protest but he overran me. “Look, there’s no good going to the school right now—aside from showing your cards too soon. Take it from a gambler, you don’t flash your hand before you know what the other guy’s got.” He gestured toward the computer table. “Go work on that while I get these on the grill.”
“Might as well research the area,” I grumbled, sitting down with a thump in the chair. The keyboard beckoned with the well-worn keys urging me to just take a breather from the marathon I’d bee
n running for the past few hours.
“Tell me about Ruth.” His words drifted over to me from the kitchen area along with the enticing sizzle of a good hot grill. I took a deep breath, inhaling various spices and the delicious scent of raw meat.
“One minute.” My fingers ran over the keyboard as I accessed various databases and started up the search engines. Anyone who’s got a whit of paranoia in their soul will tell you that thanks to the internet your entire life is an open book—and they’re not far from wrong. Depending on who you are and what you do and who’s looking, you can pretty well dig up a lot of dirt on anyone. Add in a few little back door secrets into databases I collected over the years through my investigative work and I usually was able to find something, anything on a person.
“Ruth was an amazing woman. Takes someone with a lot of patience to keep the kits in line.” I frowned as the data flashed across the screen. “Kathy Wright seems to not exist currently, at least not in any format I can find.”
“Go figure.” The moist slap of meat hitting the grill started my mouth watering. Some instincts you can’t fight or don’t even want to. “Raising the kits?”
“Well, you have to understand that from birth, we’re a pretty rowdy bunch. Takes a strong hand to handle a baby to start with, never mind one who can change into a kitten at any time. More like a baby bobcat, to be honest. A lot of Felis parents liked to come and drop the kids off for a break, catch their breath.” The screen flickered and changed, coughing up new information. “There’s been no unexplained rise in crime in the area around the school. That’s good.”
“So he’s not just indiscriminately killing and attacking. That’s something positive.” The scent of melted butter and sliced onions hit my nostrils. “So Ruth kept you kids in line?”
“So to speak. More of corralling us to make sure we didn’t kill ourselves.” My stomach gave an answering growl to the aromas floating around us. “She had the patience of a saint.”
“To deal with you, probably.” The snicker was accompanied by a resurgence of sizzling as the steaks were flipped over. “What do you think will happen to Davis?”
“If he lives? Probably retired to a nice house somewhere with a caretaker.” I wished my stomach would stop rumbling and distracting me. “Jess won’t want anyone else to know what’s going on until she can put the information out there in bits and pieces under Board control. Put him someplace safe, make up a story and everyone’s happy.”
“Really? You think anyone outside of the family would buy that?” The sound of a cork popping. “Got me a good bottle of red wine here. I think we both need a drink after today.”
“True but I’d rather have a beer, if you have any. Don’t really feel in a wine mood.” The screen flashed again and burped more results. “People will believe anything if they want to. You buy what the media tells you, what’s the difference?”
“Point.” The clink of silverware. “Food is ready. I assume you’re comfortable with medium rare.”
I spun around in the chair and grinned at him across the apartment. “You know me way too well.”
Jazz let out a plaintive cry from her perch on the couch when I pushed the chair back, glancing toward her full food dish. I wagged a finger at her. “Not going to happen.” She cocked her head to one side, rolling her front paw outward. “Okay, maybe after dinner.”
Outside a streetcar’s brakes wailed and screamed, but there was no answering crash of steel on steel. Jazz responded by twisting onto her back and ignoring us.
We ate dinner in silence, two bottles of cold beer sitting between us. Brandon looked over at where I dissected the bloody slab of meat into small bite-sized portions before eating.
“You want to talk about it?”
“What?” I ripped a mouthful of steak free with my fork.
“You’re not upset.” He waved the knife toward my plate. “You just lost your home, your surrogate mother and witnessed a whole lot of gore within a day or two. Not to mention that entire scene at the farm.” He daintily put a small piece of steak into his mouth. “That might just be a bit much for some people to deal with.”
“I guess.” I pushed one of the roasted red pepper slices through a small puddle of blood. “I suppose I’m not that flustered because I knew eventually it’d pull me back in. It’s part of the Felis lifestyle, the fighting and the consequences. It’s in our blood.” The small line of fat running along the edge of the steak fought hard when I pressed the knife down. “I guess I never really got used to it not being there. If that makes any sense.”
He nodded. “I can see that. It’s a strange, strange world.”
I peered over the dark brown bottle.
“No, just different. Different rules, different lifestyle. Just different,” I snapped.
He didn’t say anything. His knife poked down between a sliver of bone and meat, wedging the two apart.
“I’m sorry.” I dragged the last piece of meat to the edge of the plate, leaving it alone. “I guess I am upset. I just don’t know what to do about it. You, me, Jess…”
Brandon’s eyebrows rose. “That threesome is not appealing to me at all.”
I smirked. “Duly noted.” A small onion slice danced in the blood, tempting me. “I just don’t know what to make of her. She was the one who…who…” I couldn’t get the words out. Instead I rolled my shoulders. “She’s the one who recommended me for this because of who I am, what I am.”
“How well did you know her, you know, before?” “Hardly at all.” I speared the lonely piece of steak. “Ruth said Jess knew my parents but I never asked about it. Never seemed to be the right time.” I added the last bit of onion. “Still isn’t.”
“If not now, when?”
I chewed slowly, putting my energy into shredding the meat. “How about after we find this kid?” I couldn’t help letting my annoyance slip through.
Bran nodded. “Okay. I get that.” He pointed at the couch with his knife. “Am I there or in my own bed tonight?”
“Are we fighting?” I smiled, tipping the bottle toward my mouth.
“I don’t know.” He chuckled. “Are we?”
“Only if it’s foreplay.” I waved my fork. “And before you even go there, no—Felis are not more prone to S&M than anyone else.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” His right eyebrow arched upward. “But, now that you mention it,” he said, “as you know, I am open to new experiences.” His eyes caught mine. “And I like exploring all angles.” He drew his eyes down and over my body, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.
I pushed the near-empty plate away from me, feeling a delicious tingle begin to surge through my veins. A good slab of meat in my belly and a handsome man across the table. Yeah, I could make this work.
I glanced at Jazz. “You’re on guard duty tonight. Don’t mess up.” She answered with a long, leisurely stretch of each toe to its full extent, reaching out with one leg then the other. I turned back to Bran. “We’re good.”
He tipped back his own bottle of beer, finishing it off. “Bet I can make you purr.”
“Felis don’t purr.”
“Bet I can make you.” He leered at me, sending a thrill up my spine.
“Just don’t forget to set the alarm clock.”
Chapter 17
The next morning we were standing in front of David Thomson High School at seven o’clock, both of us bleary-eyed and less than bushy-tailed. Brandon handed me a Starbucks cup of coffee, shuffling his feet from side to side.
“Your own fault.” I shook myself awake again.
“Well, I think it was worth it.” He grinned at me. “Now I know what makes you purr.” His attention returned to the scene in front of us, ignoring my blush. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he mumbled, taking a sip of his own brew.
“No. But it’s a good place to start.” I gestured toward the empty school parking lot. “As long as I stay upwind of this kid, I’ll be fine. He won’t be able to tell that I’
m anyone other than just another adult.”
“Except that we’re technically trespassing,” Bran said. “Sooner or later someone’s going to tell the office that there are two people hanging out near the parking lot and we’re going to be chatting to the police about how we’re not predators.”
“Except by then we should know who the kid is. Besides, we’ve got identification and a good reason to be here. Cops won’t mind. Much.”
“When we know who the kid is…” Bran took another sip and shrugged, adjusting the light jacket lying across his shoulders. “What do we do? Can’t just walk to the cops and tell them that he’s the killer ’cause he smells bad.”
I looked at Bran. “He doesn’t smell ‘bad.’ Each Felis has their own individual scent.” I turned my attention back to the parking lot. “You’ve got one. You just don’t know it.”
He sniffed his armpits, making a scene of it. “Oh, I can tell.” His hand reached over and down to pinch my bottom. “And you smell pretty darned good yourself at times.”
I slapped his hand away despite the wanton thoughts intruding into my mind. “Work, Bran. Work. I’m hoping we can just talk to this kid and reason him into custody.”
“How do you figure that? He’s killed one woman and attacked you, as far as we know. Not exactly a poster child for hug therapy.”
“He’s a lost, confused kid.” The school buses had begun to arrive, accompanied by a fleet of minivans as parents dropped off their precious cargoes—that couldn’t or wouldn’t ride the buses. “It’s likely he’s got no self-control to start with, no idea of what’s going on in his mind and body. Like I said—puberty’s tough enough without being a Felis.”
“Yeah. I remember those days. Except I wasn’t running amok and killing my teacher.” Bran nodded when a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls strutted by, ignoring us with a toss of their collective heads. “Just as I remember.”
“Huh.” The yellow buses began to discharge their cargo. I looked up and sniffed the air. “Still good. As long as the wind doesn’t change, we’re good.”
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