My Furry Valentine

by Karen Ranney

  “I should go, I’m the one who owns Graystone.”

  I knew, by his expression, that he was willing to make a big deal of the whole thing in order to act like alpha Were.

  “Okay, fine. Go. Be all macho. But if a vampire gets me, I want you to feel bad about it for the rest of your life.”

  His laughter was rather insulting.

  I watched as he took the path around the side of the house.

  Okay, maybe I didn't really believe the vampires had done this. In fact, I was more than willing to consider my brother, Austin, the culprit. Except that it hadn't been his voice I'd heard.

  I suspected, however, that they were Furries although I couldn’t say exactly why. Maybe I knew that voice from the car. The thought made me a little sick.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Here vampire, vampire

  Everything smelled like smoke. Even hours later, the front of the house was nearly unbearable to be in because of the odor.

  The fire department, and all the wonderful volunteers who manned the four trucks, had done a miraculous job of saving Graystone. I was right, however, about the Silver Parlor. It was damaged, the priceless French silk wall covering would have to be removed since parts of it had melted onto the wall. Another room, one that my grandmother had called the Ladies Library had also been damaged, but more from the water than the fire. I honestly didn't spend much time in that room because it always smelled of eucalyptus and the scent made my eyes water.

  It had been, however, one of Sonny’s favorite places. I could almost see her sitting at the desk in front of the tall windows, writing her correspondence or answering invitations. My grandmother had been an early adopter of social media. She had quite a following on Twitter by the time she died. She signed herself as @furrysouthernbelle and she had no qualms whatsoever in pinning anyone's ears to the wall. God forbid you should ever tweet something to her that was misspelled or grammatically incorrect. Or tacky, for that matter. She thought that the prevalence of bosoms and butts on the web was just about the worst thing that had happened to women.

  "Mystery," she often said to me. "That's what's missing between modern men and women. Mystery.”

  I don't know. I had a bunch of mystery in my life right now, some of it centered around Mark. I didn’t think mystery was all it was cracked up to be.

  “Here are the names of some people you might want to call to help you," one of the volunteer fireman said, handing me three business cards. Who knew there was such a booming business in crime scene cleanup?

  That’s exactly what this was, I was told. A crime scene. Or an arson scene. The arson inspector was already here. The shattered remains of the bottle was one clue, the presence of an accelerant another.

  I didn’t know how to tell him about the conversation I’d overheard, so I didn’t. Besides, I didn’t know if Mark’s brothers were responsible for trying to set Graystone on fire. That was a recent thought I’d had.

  Maybe it was a good thing I didn't have a job, because I couldn't go into work today. Until Simon had an opportunity to fix the shattered windows, I wasn't going to venture far from Graystone.

  The fire gave me a perfect opportunity to avoid my father's little family get together tonight. I had a really good excuse for not going.

  Informing him of the fire was my first mistake. Doing so by voicemail was my second. That just irritated him even further.

  My third mistake was not factoring in my father's ability to get things done. By ten o'clock two vans had pulled up in front of Graystone. One was filled with windows. Two helpers assisted Simon in replacing the windows in the Ladies Library and the Silver Parlor. The rest of the repairs of the water and smoke damage would take longer, but at least we wouldn’t have open windows.

  Here vampire, vampire.

  Before I knew it, the damaged front doors had been replaced by heavily carved bronze and iron doors that looked as if they’d been taken from a medieval castle.

  "Where did he find those?" Mark asked once the doors had been installed.

  “Who knows?" I said, marveling at the fact that the doors fit the house better than the original ones. "He's a great planner. He plans for all contingencies. Maybe he found them somewhere and stored them just in case Graystone’s doors melted one day.”

  Mark sent me a quick glance. I had tried to sound as sane as possible in the past few hours, but I was still close to the edge. I thought I’d wait until later to broach the subject of the Ouija board ottoman and my scanning Graystone for listening devices.

  My father called me back after my initial message, demanding all sorts of details. I’d tried to downplay the fire as much as possible. To my relief, he didn’t seem to know anything about it, which reassured me somewhat. Maybe he really didn’t have any bugs in my house.

  “You don’t have to worry about anything,” I told him. “I have great insurance.”

  "I'm concerned about your well-being," he said tersely. “Come and stay with us until the damage is repaired.”

  He knew how big Graystone was, right? Granted, the smoke smell was pretty nauseating on the first floor, but the other parts of the house were fine.

  “I appreciate that, but Graystone is my home.”

  “I still expect you tonight, Torrance.”

  I sighed, but didn’t answer.

  “Is Mark there?”

  I really didn't know how to answer that. Mark was standing right beside me and I didn't want to lie. I was, however, a little embarrassed to admit that I’d had an overnight guest, even though we hadn't shared a room or a bed. We Furries were pretty straight laced. Okay, a Furry daughter was restrained around her Furry father.

  I often marveled at the irony of a culture that openly expected its members to get friendly after the Hunt but frowned on those same people living together.

  I sighed again. “Yes, Mark is here.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  My father’s misogyny was rearing its ugly head. Any moment now he was going to insist that all females walk seven paces behind him again and he’d been doing so good. I wanted to say no, but I didn’t feel like getting into an argument. Plus, I was a little emotionally frazzled at the moment. I just handed my phone to Mark and walked away.

  Unfortunately — or not — I could still hear both sides of the conversation just fine.

  “Is she all right?” my father asked.

  “A little shaken up, but otherwise, she’s okay.”

  “What happened?”

  Mark gave my father the same rundown I’d already given him. Evidently, it had more weight being delivered by another male.

  I sent both of them a dirty look through the wall.

  “Who’s responsible?” my father asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Mark said.

  Mark Avery, MD, Soldier of Fortune, and General All Around Badass.

  I sent him another dirty look as I fed the Brood, about three hours behind schedule.

  I was getting my own share of dirty looks, canine style.

  "What did they want?" I said after everyone had left.

  "What do you mean?" Mark asked.

  “The people who set fire to Graystone. What did they want?”

  “To burn the house down?”

  I shook my head. “It’s stone and brick. They didn't aim for one of the windows. If they had, the fire would've caused more damage and it would’ve spread. Instead, they threw the Molotov cocktail at the front doors.”

  He came and sat down beside me. I’d retreated to the porch, opened up all the windows, and sent the dogs to their run so they could get some fresh air. Simon was interviewing cleanup crews and whichever one he picked I would hire.

  “What are you thinking?”

  "I don't think that they wanted to harm us. There were a lot of different ways they could have done that if they wanted to. Like performing a concerted assault on Graystone. Not just one Molotov cocktail at the front doors, but hitting us from al
l sides. Or even using a gun. Luring us outside. They could have set fire to one of the outbuildings in back, for example, and when we went to investigate, they could have shot us.”

  "You've given this some thought," he said.

  I nodded. "Why? That's the one question I keep coming back to. Why did they do it?”

  We sat in silence for some minutes, the Brood returning to take up a position at my feet. They’d become Velcro dogs again and didn’t want to be separated. I couldn't blame them. I felt the same way about Mark. How foolish was that?

  "If you weren't here," I told him in a burst of honesty, "I might have opened the front door. Maybe that's what they wanted, for me to open up the door and be engulfed in flames.”

  Wasn't that a pleasant thought to have?

  He reached over and covered my hand with his.

  Mark stayed with me until about three when he got a phone call. Another one of those mysterious phone calls.

  "I've got to leave," he said, bending to kiss me lightly on the lips.

  “Does this mean you’re not going to accompany me to the great family meeting tonight?”

  He looked surprised at my words. "Did you want me to?”

  Honestly? Yes, but his being there would send all kinds of messages to my family. I wasn't sure I wanted to do that quite yet. Plus it would mean something to Mark, too, and I was still wading through my degree of commitment.

  Maybe it wasn't commitment as much as it was confusion. I was still coming to grips with the fact that his ex-wife had done something so odd as become involved with a vampire. Or maybe she just didn't have any choice. Maybe she’d been mesmerized.

  “If you find her, do you think you can convince her to come with you? Or do you think she went with him of her own free will?”

  “That I don’t know.”

  He eyed me for a moment, almost as if he were on the verge of saying something and then thought better of it. Remember the old adage: you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink? Well, you could want a Furry to talk, but you couldn't pull the words out of his mouth. As much as you might want to.

  The Brood crowded around Mark's feet, almost as if they wanted to keep him here as much as I did. It wasn't that I thought he owed me anything, it's that I was afraid I wasn't going to see him again. Every time he got one of those mysterious phone calls he left for a few days and we didn't talk. Now that I knew why, it worried me even more.

  The problem with good guys is that they were good guys all the time, even when you wanted them to be not so good. I would have preferred if Mark had been a teensy-weensy selfish and washed his hands of his ex-wife and her new vampire boyfriend. It wasn't going to happen. He was going to continue to look for her, even if it meant he put himself in danger.

  “Go,” I said, pasting a determined smile on my face. “But you’d better take care of yourself.”

  He merely smiled and kissed me again. I watched as he left the porch and headed for his car. The Brood went to the window and whined. I felt the same way.

  A few minutes later I stared down at the notebook I’d started with all the plans I had for repairing the Silver Parlor and the Ladies Library. I'd already accumulated pages filled with notes of what needed to be done. My CPA was not going to be happy, but that was the least of my problems right now.

  Simon had already ordered some stuff to clean the stone at the front of Graystone. I had no idea that fire could discolor it so badly.

  I went to a blank page and wrote down everything I could remember not only about what I’d overheard, but the voice itself.

  Okay, so I had Pranic blood. Big whoop. I might be a little stronger than I normally was as a Furry. I also had super duper hearing. Another big whoop. I thought that my olfactory senses were getting better, too. Smells bothered me more than they used to. For example, there was a dusty odor to some of the rooms on the third floor. And some of the herbs I used to cook with – when I cooked – seemed almost too pungent.

  I had a feeling I would smell the smoke on the first floor for a long time.

  Other than that, I didn't have any enhanced abilities. I was going to see if I could mesmerize anybody. Even though I was against the idea of trying to convince someone to do my bidding without their conscious approval, there were times when it might come in handy. Such as if I was ever stuck in a room with a vampire, for example. I could at least try to make sure he didn’t make me a meal.

  I scanned through my phone and looked up the spells I’d copied. One or two of them looked promising. More than promising, actually. I was going to start practicing them right away.

  Good, I had a plan. Along with the clinic, the restoration of Graystone, and my personal enhancement project I had enough to occupy me so I wasn’t worried or scared.

  In that spirit, I was also going to become a certifiable Furry Badass.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  What other secrets did my father have?

  My parents lived in this hoity-toity subdivision outside of San Antonio. It had become one of the places to live for the uber wealthy of South Texas. It wasn't just a gated community; it was a gated community with another gate inside the first gate. I had a picture ID that had been provided for me by the security company that monitored the comings and goings of all visitors. Not only did I have to provide it every time I came, but I had to sign the guestbook and smile at the camera while my picture was taken yet again.

  There was a ten foot brick fence that extended around the entire subdivision. On the top of that were metal poles about five inches high. There wasn't any razorback wire, and they didn't advertise it, but I suspected that the poles were electrified and that if you thought you were getting over the fence, you had a shock in store for you, literally.

  I know that a few Spurs players lived here along with the movers and shakers of San Antonio, of which my father was one. I thought there were two other Furry families in residence, but I wasn't sure. Furries tended to be, if not wealthy, then comfortable, I think the terminology was. As a culture, we emphasized fiscal responsibility and financial independence. True power, I remember my father telling my brother, came from having enough money to do what you wanted.

  I hadn’t seen Austin since the night he’d tried to kill me and I dreaded encountering him. That's just one of the reasons I didn't want to show up tonight.

  It wasn’t yet dark when I pulled into my parents’ drive. The approach to their house was long and wide. A good thing, since there were four cars parked there already, none of which I recognized. They were all high end and brand new. My orange Ford looked a little out of place among all the shiny black vehicles.

  I sat in the car for a few minutes, psyching myself into striding inside the house with a bright smile on my face. What a laugh. I didn't feel the least bit like smiling and I was about to do something that was probably foolish, but I didn't see any alternative.

  I was going to have to tell my mother about being Pranic.

  Of course, there was always the possibility of blackmailing Austin into silence. I could threaten to tell our father what he’d done unless he remained quiet about what I was. That would be the optimal solution, frankly, but I didn't hold out any hope that Austin would see reason.

  I suspected my brother was a Wolfie. That's what we called Furries who’d gone native, who wanted to return to the old ways, who thought that being a Were was the greatest thing on earth and superior to any other life form, even to obliterating any other life form. Like me, for example.

  I had dressed for the occasion. I was wearing a long black skirt, a sleeveless silk tank, and a jacket embroidered with peahens on it. I'd put my hair up in a bun, wore my grandmother's yellow diamond earrings that matched the embroidered yellow feathers on my jacket. I'd even worn makeup. I wouldn't embarrass my family and hopefully would fit in with the Houston and Dallas contingent.

  In all the years that I’d known about my father's other families, I had never once asked a question about them. My father w
ould have just frowned at me and remained mute. If I’d been foolish enough to say anything in front of my mother she would have looked stricken, almost as if she were going to cry. So, the subject was carefully buried, never mentioned, never alluded to but always there like a neon pink elephant defecating in the corner of the room.

  I didn’t even know how many half siblings I had. I’d never seen a picture of my father's concubines. I thought there was only two of them, but I might be unpleasantly surprised tonight.

  The word why was coming back in force again. Why did someone firebomb Graystone? Why was my father having this special meeting?

  I guess I wasn't going to find out the answer to one of those questions unless I actually went into the house.

  I got out of the car, smoothed my skirt and wished I'd had the courage to wear sneakers instead of the three inch heels that were already killing my feet. I was six feet even without shoes. Now I felt like an Amazon. Luckily, most Furry men were taller than me which meant that I wouldn't have towered over Mark if I’d convinced him to come with me.

  Where was he? Not a why question, but one just as important. What was he doing? With whom? I already knew the why – to find his ex-wife. Just how far was he willing to go? I had a feeling that Mark didn't have any boundaries and that was both good and bad. I knew that if I ever needed him like I had before, he would bend heaven and earth to get to me. He was doing the same for his ex-wife. I couldn't exactly fault him for that even though the little green imp of jealousy was running back and forth inside a cave that looked a lot like my libido’s.

  I used the formal entrance to my parents’ home instead of ducking into the kitchen like I normally did. My mother's artistry with the plants and all growing things was in evidence as I took the winding walk up to the impressive doorway. The door had been custom made, stained glass on an iron frame. The scene was from Scotland, the seat of the Celtic Clan and the Boyd family. Mountains stretched in the distance and in the foreground was a lake and the silhouette of a castle. Sunlight streamed off the lake, the artist so skilled that you could almost stretch out your hand and feel it warmed by the sun. At the bottom left of the glass was what I’d always thought was part of the castle, but now I glanced at it and froze. It was a rectangular form, maybe a box, maybe something else like a stone or an oversized brick. It's corners were worn as if it had been touched hundreds or thousands of times by supplicants and penitents and believers.