Night Broken

Page 5

I called the home number of the local Alpha. Hed given me time to talk and sounded a little stressed when he had to break the silence. The girl that answered sent me here when I told her I didnt have easy means of transport out that far. The city bus got me over here. He glanced over his shoulder as if hed rather have been anywhere else. It dawned on me that the reason he wasnt looking me in the face had more to do with him than with my almostpanic attack. I drift, you know? Dont like to stay anywhere long. Im bottom of the pack, so that means I dont cause no trouble.
His American accent was Pacific Northwest, but there was something about the rhythm of his words that made me think that English was not his native tongue, though he was comfortable in it. Bottom of the pack, like his averted eyes, meant submissive wolf: they tended to live longer than other werewolves because they werent so likely to end up on the losing end of a fight to the death. Submissive wolves also got to travel because no Alpha would turn down a submissive wolfthere werent many of them, and they tended to help a pack function more smoothly.
Honeys mate, Peter, who had been killed a few months ago, had been our only submissive after Able Tankersley left. A wolf Id only been barely acquainted with, Able had taken a job offer in San Francisco. It was not only the violence of Peters death but his absence that was affecting the pack. A new submissive wolf would be welcome.
Bran send you to us? I asked.
Hell no, he said, with emphasis. Though he gave me a list of numbers when I told him I was drifting this way. Neither of us knew I would end up here at the time. He looked out the garage door, again, at the bare beginnings of spring. Dont think Ill stay here long, though. Hope you dont take it amiss. I dont generally stay where its hot, and I heard tell at the bus depot that this place gets scorching in the summer.
Thats fine. Do you need a place to stay?
He gave my garage a dubious look, and I laughed. I dont know how much you know. Im Mercy Hauptman, and my husbands the Alpha here. We have extra bedrooms at homethat are open to pack members who need them. Maybe with another visitor, the effects of Christys stay would be diluted.
Im Zack Drummond, Ms. Hauptman. Id be grateful for a room tonight, but after that, Id rather find my own place.
All right, I said. Im headed out there at five thirtyusually it was closer to six thirty, but usually my husbands ex wouldnt have been running around in my territory that used to be hersif you want to catch a ride. I cant officially welcome you to the pack, thats my husbands job, but we dont have a submissive in our pack, and we could use one.
If I cant find another way out, he said, Ill be here at five fifteen.
He hesitated, started to say something, then hesitated again.
What is it? I asked.
What are you? he said. You arent fae or werewolf.
Im a shifterNative American style, I told him. Better known as a walker. I change into a coyote.
His eyes widened and, finally, rose to examine every inch of me. Ive heard of your kind, he said finally. Always thought they were a myth.
I smiled at him and gave him a salute. A few years ago, and that would have been the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Drummond.
Zack Drummond didnt show up at five fifteen. Five thirty saw me fretting because the Beetle wasnt done, and Id promised it would be finished at eight the next morning.
Go home, Mercy, said Tad, who was on his back working on the undercarriage of the Beetle. Another hour, and Ill have it buttoned up and done.
If I stayed, it would shave fifteen minutes off, I told him.
One of his booted feet waggled at me. Go home. Dont let that bitch steal your man without a fight.
You dont even know her.
He slid back out from under the car, his face more oil-colored than not. Ears sticking out a little, his face just this side of homelyby his choice. His father was Siebold Adelbertsmiter. Tads mother had been human, but his fathers blood had gifted him with glamour and, from things hed said, a fair bit of power.
I know you, he told me. Im betting on you. Go home, Mercy. Ill get it done.
Hed been working in this shop when he was just a kid. He might be thirteen years younger than me, but he was at least as good a mechanic.
Okay, I said.
In the oversized bathroom, I stripped out of my overalls and scrubbed up. The harsh soaps that cut through the grease and dirt have never bothered my skinwhich is good because I use them a lot. Not even industrial soap could get out all the ingrained dirt I had on my hands, but my skin tones hid most of that.
A glance in the mirror had me unbraiding my hair. I ran a comb through itbraiding it when it was wet gave it a curl it didnt have normally. Nothing was going to turn me into a girly girl, but the curls softened my appearance a little.
I was almost out the door, and Tad was back under the Beetle, when he said, When Adams ex drives you into making sweet things with chocolate, just remember I like my brownies with lots of frosting but no nuts.
I opened the front door to the smell of bacon and the sound of sizzling meat.
Adam, Jesse, and I shared kitchen duties, taking turns making dinner. Tonight was supposed to be Jesses night, but I wasnt surprised that the only person in the kitchen was Christy. Her back was to me as she cooked in the kitchen shed designed.
Shed been angry, her daughter had told me, that Adam had insisted on moving all the way out to Finley instead of building in one of the more prestigious neighborhoods in West Richland or Kennewick. Hed given her free rein in the house to make up for the fact that hed wanted the house next to my trailer because Bran, who ruled all the weres in this part of the world, had told him to keep an eye on me. In addition to ruling hundreds and maybe thousands of werewolves, Bran had been the Alpha of the pack my foster father, Bryan, had belonged to. That had occasionally left Bran with delusions that he had a right to interfere with my life long after Id left Montana and his pack behind.
Christy was shorter than me by a couple of inches, about the same size as Jesse. The body in the blouse and peasant skirt was softly curved, but not fat. Her hair, brown when Id last seen her, was now blond-streaked and French-braided in a thick rope that hung to her hips.
Could you find some paper towels, Jesse? she asked without turning around. Theyve beenmoved, and I have bacon ready to come out of the frying pan.
I opened the cabinet that held the paper towels exactly where she probably had put them on the day she first moved in. I hadnt changed the organization of the kitchen. Too many people were already using it, so it made more sense for me to learn where everything was than for me to reorganize it to my tastes.
So Christys kitchen was exactly as shed left itstill hers in spirit if not in truth. Her presence in my kitchen felt like an invasion in a fashion that the Gray Lord whod been here in the wee hours of the night had not, despite his intentions.
Christy knew I wasnt Jesse, I could smell her tensionwhich was sort of cheating, so I didnt call her on it. Also, accusing her of lying right off the bat didnt seem like a good way to make peace with her.
Paper towels, I said as peaceably as I could manage, setting them down on the counter beside the stove.
She turned to look at me, and I saw her face.
Holy Hannah, I said before she could say anything, distracted entirely from my territorial irritation. Tell me you shot him or hit him with a two-by-four. She didnt just have a shiner. Half her face was black with that greenish brown around the edges that told you it hadnt happened in the last twenty-four hours.
She gave me a half smile, probably the half that didnt hurt. Would a frying pan be okay? Not as effective as a baseball bat, but it was hot.
I would accept a frying pan, I agreed. ThisI indicated the side of my face that corresponded to her damaged cheek with my fingersfrom the guy youre running from?
It wasnt my aunt Sally, she said tartly.
You go to a doctor with that? I asked.
She nodded. Adam made me go. The doctor said it would heal okay. He gave me a prescription for pain meds, but I dont like to take prescriptions. Maybe tonight if I cant sleep.
The front door opened, and I didnt have to back out of the kitchen to see who it was; Adam had a presence I could feel from anywhere in the house.
Hey, honey, said Christy. Ive got BLTs going on the stove. Theyll be done in about ten minutes if you want to go upstairs and get cleaned up. She glanced at me, and said, Oops. Sorry, just habit.
No worries, I said pleasantly, as if she hadnt bothered me at all when shed called my husband by an endearmentthen could have shot myself because I saw the satisfaction in her face. My reaction had been too controlled to be real, and shed caught it.
Maybe you could set the table? she asked lightly.
As if it was still her kitchen, her house to rule.
I need to get out of these clothes, I said. You should ask Jesse to set the table since you took over her job tonight. We might have one more for dinnera new wolf in town.
I left before she could reply and rounded the corner for the stairs to see Adam. He walked with me up the stairs.
Any luck hunting down the guy who hit her? I asked, stripping off my clothes once we were in our bedroom. Even though my overalls absorbed most of the mess of mechanicking, the clothes I wore under them reeked of oil and sweat.
No. Its not that we cant find people named Juan Flores, its that there are too many Juan Floreses, he told me. John Smith would be easier, though it helps that he doesnt look like most Juan Floreses. Hes around six feet tall with blond hair; she said his English was good. He has an accent, but she doesnt think it was Mexican or Spanish, despite his name.
She met him in Eugene?
He shook his head. Reno. She was out partying with some friends. He was a friend of a friend. Richwith cashnot just credit cards. He talked about Europe like he was very familiar with it, but he didnt tell her if he was living there or if he just traveled there a lot.
Cash means real money, I said. Not just someone pretending to be wealthy.
Probably, Adam agreed.
Did she call the police when he hit her?
She called them before he broke into her apartment and started hitting her. He left when he heard the sirens, though it might have been the frying pan she hit him with. There was admiration in his voice, and I did my best not to flinch. Of course he was proud of her. It takes guts to fight back effectively after a hard hit to the head. The police didnt have any better luck than Im having running the name he gave her.
Adam stripped off his tie and unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt impatiently. Later that night, someone mugged the man she went out with after she returned to Eugene. Broke his neck and took off with his wallet. Shes sure it was Flores, that stealing his wallet was just a cover. The police are undecided but told her that she might find somewhere else to be while they ran down leads.
If her boyfriend is responsible, he kills pretty competently, I said, pulling on clean jeans, which were in a drawer with a stack of other clean jeans.
Id gotten used to keeping my clean clothes folded in drawers and dirty clothes in a hamper in the closet. Adam had gotten used to calling me when he was going to be late from work. I had learned that it was those things, compromise in the form of phone calls and folded clothes, that cemented the bedrock of a relationship. I wondered what habits Adam and Christy had left over from their marriage.
I thought so, too, Adam said, unaware of the twist of my thoughts. My sources say that the kill was clean. Not so clean it couldnt have been an accidentbut unusual in a mugging, especially in Eugene, which isnt exactly a hotbed of that kind of crime. So maybe he spent some time in the military.
Or as an assassin or crime lord, I said.
Adam snorted as he pulled on a faded green t-shirt that said I HEART COYOTES. Yet another sign that folding my clean clothes wasnt too big a price to pay to make him happy. He didnt have any I HEART CHRISTY shirtsor I would have burned them already. You have an overactive imagination.
Says the werewolf, I told him. Instead of my usual after-work t-shirt, I changed into a fitted shirt in a shade of lavender that looked good against my skin and showed off the muscles on my arms. Christy wouldnt know that it was any different from what I usually wore. I didnt have her soft curves, so Id emphasize what I did have.
You got my text about Zack Drummond, right? The lavender contrasted nicely with my brown eyes. Maybe I should put on eye shadow? Seems like a nice guy. Thought walkers like me were a myth.
Adam grinned at me. I think youre pretty special, too.