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Sterling’s eyes narrowed a hair. “I’m weighing the merits of hostilities.”
Right. The merits. I dug up a smile and tapped him on the chest. “You did promise me a Swiss ski chalet on a remote mountaintop. I have high expectations for the fortress from which we’ll taunt the Elders.”
His expression curved upwards into a menacing, sharp-edged smile. “Fine. But I reserve the right to have misgivings about how much of this is falling onto you, and how battered you’re becoming in the process. I’m certain somewhere we crossed a line, but I’m not sure where.”
“But we’re so good at crossing lines,” I said. “I’m the harrier, you just be ready to bring down the prey and we’ll call it even.”
They're Here
I had a laundry list of things to do, because Sterling and I were going to the party of parties that evening. Right on the heels of the Free Candy Van Event.
[Mint] >> How are you feeling?
Winter [Mint] >> I’m a bit bruised, but good. Ready for today.
I nibbled my acrylic. Hamid flanked me with all the stern silence I’d come to expect, but his reflections seemed to dwarf mine. “How are you doing today? Body sore?”
“Fine, ma’am,” Hamid answered.
“Sure. That’s what I told Sterling,” I said wryly. I still felt a bit shaky, and the elevator seemed way too small, but I told myself to get over it.
Winter [Gazelle] >> Headed to spa for primping. Want to come?
I stepped into the main lobby of the building and tensed in anticipation of seeing familiar forms across the street. “They’ll try it again.”
“Quite possible. We have recommended to our employer you increase security.”
“Not a chance. It’ll antagonize them. This is a hunt, Hamid.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of them, ma’am. We can control the situation as it evolves.”
More like escalates, and sparking a bloodbath was not high on my to-do list.
Someone came in through the front doors, and with them a rush of the scent-cluttered air of the city. Boiled peanuts, fumes, the polluted harbor, the contaminated fog and—
The scent of a wolf.
Not a wanderer. Another wolf. A strange wolf. Male, mature, solid prestige, healthy, physically strong, cocky.
“Ma’am?” Hamid asked.
I risked a glance around the marble lobby, then took stock of the foot traffic outside. Nothing unusual. The man who had just come in was a tenant on the eighth floor. I’d seen and smelled him a dozen times.
Cautiously, I moved through the front doors. The scent swirled, but the source was easy to detect: the doorman on my left.
He tipped his hat to me without a touch of irony or teasing. “Mrs. Mortcombe.”
“You’re new,” I said, unable to keep my tone less than hostile. His name tag said Benjamin. Nice ploy to make me acknowledge him. Two could play the courtesy game, and I, being the little prestige Luna I was, wasn’t exactly in danger of losing.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied as if he had no idea I knew he wasn’t a human.
New Wolf was clean cut, respectable, and had some prestige on him. Taller than I was—taller than Sterling, actually—in his early thirties, perhaps, but average when it came to the other basic physical features. The quick eye, the lightness of his feet, the energy bundled under that gray long coat explained the prestige.
He had a little smile on his lips. The non-committal type that was pure pleasantries and nothing else. He nodded towards the other side of the street. “Looks like they’ve finally moved on. We’re still keeping an eye out, of course.”
We not being him and the other doorman. New Wolf’s gaze traveled east. That perfectly average nose of his pointed straight at GranitePaw’s heart. That polite little smile of his begged me to scratch it off his face.
How dare the GranitePaw swoop in, park themselves outside my den, and act like they were gracious Lords of the City throwing stale bread at a duck.
