Frostbitten
Page 31
"A waste of time. As you said, we have a lot to do. I'm heading that way." I pointed down the road. "I saw a shop a block away. The wind will be at my back. No one can sneak up on me."
He grumbled, but eventually gave in. I headed in the direction I'd indicated… and kept going to Joey's office. I'd planned to go inside and ask for him, but as I rounded the corner, I saw him ahead, a tray of coffees in his hand.
I jogged up behind him before he reached the doors.
"That was a shitty thing to do this morning," I said.
He jumped, sloshing coffee and cursing. I waited while he cleaned up with napkins from his pocket. He took his time and didn't so much as glance at me until he was done. He knew I was a woman and a werewolf-my scent would give that away-and I was pretty sure he knew who I was, but when he did look up, he still seemed startled. His nostrils flared as he drank in my scent. Then he rubbed the back of his sleeve over his nose, as if clearing away the smell.
"Normally I'd apologize for making you spill your coffee," I said. "But I shouldn't have been able to sneak up on you like that, not coming upwind."
"What do you want?"
I took the coffee tray, walked to a marble-topped raised flower bed and set it down, then sat beside it. Joey stayed standing.
"I'm Elena."
"I know who you are."
"And you know who Clay is, despite that stunt you pulled this morning."
His mouth tightened. There'd been a time I'd never have talked to a stranger like that. I could blame all those years with Clay, his attitude rubbing off on me, but the truth, as I've come to realize it, is that being with Clay just gives me an excuse. Years ago, I might not have talked to Joey this way, but I'd have wanted to.
I continued. "Maybe he caught you off-guard, and we're sorry for that. But you could have come out after your coworkers were gone."
From Joey's expression, he wouldn't have done that even if Clay had suggested it.
"You need to speak to Clay," I said. "If only for a few minutes. He has something to tell you. Something important."
"Then you can tell me."
"Clay really should."
He picked up his coffee tray.
I caught his elbow. "Please. It is important."
"Then say it and go. I'm not interested in a reunion."
I moved in front of him. "Whatever Clay did or said twenty-five years ago-"
He looked up sharply, his frown cutting me short. It took a moment before he seemed to understand what I meant.
"That's over," he said.
"I know you didn't part on the best terms."
"The terms were fine. He was annoyed, but we worked it out, and we parted. The key word there is parted." He glanced at me. "Didn't Clay get all those birthday cards I sent?"
"No, he never-"
"Because I didn't send any." He adjusted the tray, holding it in both hands now, between us like a shield. "Clay thought I was running away from trouble with the Pack. I wasn't. I was running away from the Pack, from all that werewolf crap he's obsessed with-they're all obsessed with. I only stayed as long as I did for my father's sake. I was happy for the chance to leave and now I have no interest in resurrecting past ties. Whatever Clay came all this way to tell me, you can get it over with and go."
"Is that an order?"
He seemed to flinch at my tone, then squared his shoulders. "I know I can't hold territory, but as a favor to an old Pack brother, I'd like Clay to respect my wishes and leave Alaska."
"How about you tell him that?"
A definite flinch that time. He turned to go.
"And what about the other werewolves in Anchorage?" I called after him. "Are they supposed to respect your wishes, too? I don't think they're going to leave that easily."
A slow pivot. "What other werewolves?"
"Three mutts. We found their tracks near the latest wolf kill. They also attacked a young werewolf yesterday, about two blocks from here. So in the past twenty-four hours, you've had six werewolves trespass on your territory, and you never even noticed?"
"I must have missed them on my daily border patrols." He shifted the coffee tray to one hand. "You don't get it, do you? No, I didn't notice them, because I don't care. I don't want to live my life like that-constantly on alert, constantly watching, working out so I can meet the next challenger, knowing there's always going to be one right around the corner. That's exactly what I came to Alaska to escape."
"Which would be just fine, if you could convince other were wolves to respect your wishes. Live and let live is not the werewolf motto, no matter how hard you and I might wish otherwise."
He looked at me then. Really looked at me for the first time since I'd approached him.
"This isn't my world either," I said. "I was born human. Raised human. I like being a werewolf-I won't lie about that-but there are parts of it that I really don't like. I've spent two days chasing a twenty-year-old kid about to be framed and killed by a couple of mutts for man-eating. I follow him to Anchorage and what happens? Completely different mutts find him first and cut off two of his fingers. He didn't challenge them. He even said he wasn't sticking around. But they wanted him gone now. That's the world we live in. These mutts are going to find you and when they do, you won't be able to ask them nicely to leave you alone. They already kil-" I stopped short. "Clay needs to talk to you."
The shields fell again. "No."
"It's about your father."
Joey scowled. "Oh, hell. Let me guess. Dad whined to Jeremy about me, and sent Clay to have a little talk. My old buddy to set me straight."
"No, your father didn't say a word to Jeremy. But I did talk to your dad's landlord yesterday. I take it you two had a falling out?"
"No, we just… We drifted apart."
From what the landlord said, it sounded like Joey had done the drifting. Further separating him from everything werewolf in his life, including his father.
"Look, about the mutts?" Joey continued. "Tell Clay I appreciate the warning. If you're having trouble tracking down my dad, I'll do it and I'll pass on the message. But Clay doesn't need to worry about me. I'm not a werewolf anymore-not like you two are, not like my father is. I'm a regular guy struggling with a disability that makes me disappear into the shed twice a month and change into a wolf. I don't run in Anchorage. I don't run in the forest. I don't even hike outside the city. These guys aren't likely to cross my path and if they do, I'll go the other way. Now if you'll excuse me… "
He grumbled, but eventually gave in. I headed in the direction I'd indicated… and kept going to Joey's office. I'd planned to go inside and ask for him, but as I rounded the corner, I saw him ahead, a tray of coffees in his hand.
I jogged up behind him before he reached the doors.
"That was a shitty thing to do this morning," I said.
He jumped, sloshing coffee and cursing. I waited while he cleaned up with napkins from his pocket. He took his time and didn't so much as glance at me until he was done. He knew I was a woman and a werewolf-my scent would give that away-and I was pretty sure he knew who I was, but when he did look up, he still seemed startled. His nostrils flared as he drank in my scent. Then he rubbed the back of his sleeve over his nose, as if clearing away the smell.
"Normally I'd apologize for making you spill your coffee," I said. "But I shouldn't have been able to sneak up on you like that, not coming upwind."
"What do you want?"
I took the coffee tray, walked to a marble-topped raised flower bed and set it down, then sat beside it. Joey stayed standing.
"I'm Elena."
"I know who you are."
"And you know who Clay is, despite that stunt you pulled this morning."
His mouth tightened. There'd been a time I'd never have talked to a stranger like that. I could blame all those years with Clay, his attitude rubbing off on me, but the truth, as I've come to realize it, is that being with Clay just gives me an excuse. Years ago, I might not have talked to Joey this way, but I'd have wanted to.
I continued. "Maybe he caught you off-guard, and we're sorry for that. But you could have come out after your coworkers were gone."
From Joey's expression, he wouldn't have done that even if Clay had suggested it.
"You need to speak to Clay," I said. "If only for a few minutes. He has something to tell you. Something important."
"Then you can tell me."
"Clay really should."
He picked up his coffee tray.
I caught his elbow. "Please. It is important."
"Then say it and go. I'm not interested in a reunion."
I moved in front of him. "Whatever Clay did or said twenty-five years ago-"
He looked up sharply, his frown cutting me short. It took a moment before he seemed to understand what I meant.
"That's over," he said.
"I know you didn't part on the best terms."
"The terms were fine. He was annoyed, but we worked it out, and we parted. The key word there is parted." He glanced at me. "Didn't Clay get all those birthday cards I sent?"
"No, he never-"
"Because I didn't send any." He adjusted the tray, holding it in both hands now, between us like a shield. "Clay thought I was running away from trouble with the Pack. I wasn't. I was running away from the Pack, from all that werewolf crap he's obsessed with-they're all obsessed with. I only stayed as long as I did for my father's sake. I was happy for the chance to leave and now I have no interest in resurrecting past ties. Whatever Clay came all this way to tell me, you can get it over with and go."
"Is that an order?"
He seemed to flinch at my tone, then squared his shoulders. "I know I can't hold territory, but as a favor to an old Pack brother, I'd like Clay to respect my wishes and leave Alaska."
"How about you tell him that?"
A definite flinch that time. He turned to go.
"And what about the other werewolves in Anchorage?" I called after him. "Are they supposed to respect your wishes, too? I don't think they're going to leave that easily."
A slow pivot. "What other werewolves?"
"Three mutts. We found their tracks near the latest wolf kill. They also attacked a young werewolf yesterday, about two blocks from here. So in the past twenty-four hours, you've had six werewolves trespass on your territory, and you never even noticed?"
"I must have missed them on my daily border patrols." He shifted the coffee tray to one hand. "You don't get it, do you? No, I didn't notice them, because I don't care. I don't want to live my life like that-constantly on alert, constantly watching, working out so I can meet the next challenger, knowing there's always going to be one right around the corner. That's exactly what I came to Alaska to escape."
"Which would be just fine, if you could convince other were wolves to respect your wishes. Live and let live is not the werewolf motto, no matter how hard you and I might wish otherwise."
He looked at me then. Really looked at me for the first time since I'd approached him.
"This isn't my world either," I said. "I was born human. Raised human. I like being a werewolf-I won't lie about that-but there are parts of it that I really don't like. I've spent two days chasing a twenty-year-old kid about to be framed and killed by a couple of mutts for man-eating. I follow him to Anchorage and what happens? Completely different mutts find him first and cut off two of his fingers. He didn't challenge them. He even said he wasn't sticking around. But they wanted him gone now. That's the world we live in. These mutts are going to find you and when they do, you won't be able to ask them nicely to leave you alone. They already kil-" I stopped short. "Clay needs to talk to you."
The shields fell again. "No."
"It's about your father."
Joey scowled. "Oh, hell. Let me guess. Dad whined to Jeremy about me, and sent Clay to have a little talk. My old buddy to set me straight."
"No, your father didn't say a word to Jeremy. But I did talk to your dad's landlord yesterday. I take it you two had a falling out?"
"No, we just… We drifted apart."
From what the landlord said, it sounded like Joey had done the drifting. Further separating him from everything werewolf in his life, including his father.
"Look, about the mutts?" Joey continued. "Tell Clay I appreciate the warning. If you're having trouble tracking down my dad, I'll do it and I'll pass on the message. But Clay doesn't need to worry about me. I'm not a werewolf anymore-not like you two are, not like my father is. I'm a regular guy struggling with a disability that makes me disappear into the shed twice a month and change into a wolf. I don't run in Anchorage. I don't run in the forest. I don't even hike outside the city. These guys aren't likely to cross my path and if they do, I'll go the other way. Now if you'll excuse me… "
