Page 112 of Mate
It’s odd, what her absence does to him. She is missing, but she fills and floods every part of his life.
IGIVE MYSELF A FEW MINUTES TO CRY IT OUT, THEN HEAD FORmy appointment.
Saul is leaning against his car, laughing with a young blond woman I have yet to meet. When she notices me, her eyes double in size, theIs that the halfling?expression that I’ve grown accustomed to. “Give me a sec, Jess,” he says, and jogs up to me.
“Koen left,” I tell him. “I’m going to head in and talk to Layla.”
“Okey-doke.” The corners of his eyes crease with concern. I don’t need a mirror to know that mine are red rimmed, but Saul saw me disappear behind the building with Koen and has enough pieces to put together an exhaustive picture. “Do you know how long it’ll take?”
“Not sure.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll be here, waiting. And hey, maybe later . . .” He leans forward. Winks at me in a conspiratorial way that has me bracing for what’s to come. I don’t know if I can deal with Saul now— his compassion, his kindness, his terrible music. Where is Brenna when I want to be bitch-slapped back to my senses by an expert?
“It’s okay, Saul, I— ”
“Maybe later we can discuss that werecrab thing?”
I frown. “You seemed pretty opposed thirty minutes ago.”
“Well, I had to. You know how Amanda and Koen are.”
“And how’s that?”
“Sticks in the mud. Unimaginative. But the werecrab thing has potential. And I’ve been thinking of writing a book, so— ”
I wave him off, give the woman my least Human smile, and walk into the building.
The waiting room is deserted. I knock at the same office as yesterday. After a few seconds I hear Layla’s feeble “Come in.”
Weird, I think, wrapping my hand around the doorknob.
So I let go of it. Take a step back.Whyisthis weird?My instincts tell me that something’s off. And by now, enough disturbing shit has happened that humoring my instincts feels less like indulgence and more like necessity.
I dig into my pocket, wrapping my fingers around the penguin knife. With my other hand, I unlock my phone and pull up Koen’s contact to—
Acute, piercing pain bites into my hand. My phone flies into the air.
“I don’t believe so,” a voice says from behind me.
I spin on my heels. It’s the blond girl— Jess. And she kicked my hand so hard, it might be broken.
I look around. My phone landed beyond the reception desk, so out of reach, it might as well be on the moon with the werecrabs. I hold on to my knife and scream at the top of my lungs, “Saul!”
“Saul’s taking a nap. Let the boy rest.”
I’m willing to— if only because Jess expects nothing from me, which puts me in a good position to slam the right side of my body against her and nick her with my knife.
“You little fucking— ” She tries to twist my wrist, but I free myself with a kick, get in another stab, and dart outside. That’s when the door to the office opens, and another Were runs out. I realize that Jess is not acting alone, and that I’m fucked.
I throw my self-defense kitchen sink at them, but the most it buys me is a three-foot escape before I’m recaptured. I kick, bite,cry out for help, but I’m quickly muffled with a sweaty palm and dragged inside the office.
Aside from me and Jess, there are three other Weres in the room. The one who helped Jess capture me is around my age. A second, much older man holds something sharp— a scalpel?— to the third’s neck.
Layla.
At first, I wonder why she isn’t shifting. We’d still be outnumbered, but a wolf would give us a fighting chance. Then I notice her droopy eyelids and limp hand. Her head occasionally lolls around the stem of her neck.
“What did you do to her?” I shout against the younger man’s palm. It doesn’t come out nearly as intelligible, but he must get the gist.
