Page 17 of Waifs And Strays
Chapter
Seven
After visiting three more of my neighbours and confirming my suspicions, I returned home with a heavy heart and a churning mind to consider my options.
I made myself a cup of strong coffee while She Who Loves Sunbeams nuzzled my arm and did her best to keep my spirits up. He Who Crunches Bird Bones eyed me worriedly from the corner, and even He Who Must Sleep stayed awake and tried to groom the inch of bare skin around my ankle with his rough tongue to raise my mood. It was an indication of their anxiety – and mine – that they remained awake.
The obvious suspect was Alexander MacTire. MacTire was wealthy enough to afford any number of forget-me-not spells. He could easily have sent another wolf to grab Nick while I was in his drawing room having a chat. It would serve him well to blame me for the abduction because it would provide him with a logical reason to kill me.
Nick could re-appear in a few weeks’ time, whole and well and completely bound to the MacTire pack, while Alexander MacTire would no longer have to worry about what I mightreveal about him. He’d wave a hand and murmur an ‘oops’ about my death then a heartbeat later he’d forget me and get on with his life. With Nick in tow, whether he wanted to be or not.
‘It’s twisted,’ I told the cats, ‘but theoretically possible.’ I shook my head. ‘I’m not convinced, though. I believed MacTire when he said he’d give Nick more time, and he doesn’t seem the sort of person to come up with such a convoluted plan.’
He Who Crunches Bird Bones squinted at me and I scratched his chin.
‘I could try a tracking spell to locate Nick, but I don’t have the right ingredients here – and let’s face it, anyone who has the wherewithal to employ a forget-me-not spell will have masked their trail at the same time.’
I sighed. ‘But I do need to rule out MacTire completely before I look at the other suspects.’ I thought of the construction crew that Nick had mentioned and the mysterious red-haired werewolf who’d tried to follow me home. There were several avenues to consider.
I drained the coffee cup in one long gulp; sleep was out of the question tonight and I needed all the caffeine I could get. I knew what I had to do. Whoever had taken Nick and hurt him was going to rue the day they’d been born.
Coldstream wasa different city once the sun went down because plenty of Preternaturals were nocturnal. In a bid to appear as normal as possible, I’d avoided night-time excursions since I’d retired and moved to Danksville, though I still relished the dark. You could take the woman out of the assassins but you couldn’t take the assassin out of the woman; there would always be a kernel of a killer inside me – and killers love the night.
Although there was cloud cover, I still covered my hair with a dark woollen hat. When I’d been working I’d had to appear as nondescript as possible so it was dyed a dull shade of mousy brown. These days it was a vibrant shade of purple, which was great for standing out in a crowd and fit my image of an eccentric cat lady but wasn’t conducive to staying under the radar. I’d already removed my shiny jewellery and dressed in ninja black so that not even a glimmer of moonshine could glint across my body.
I had intended to donate most of my old working clothes to charity when I had the time. Now, as I felt the familiar fizz of anticipation burst through my veins, I wondered if I’d deliberately held onto them in the hope of an event such as this one. Old habits died hard.
‘And old assassins die even harder,’ I whispered as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I gave a humourless grin; nobody had said I couldn’t be cheesy.
I double-checked my equipment then abandoned the mirror and popped my head into the room where I’d left She Who Hisses. I caught a glimpse of her flicking tail from behind one of the boxes. Despite her anger, she’d eaten a decent amount of the kibble I’d left. I nodded approvingly and closed the door. A good appetite was a good sign.
He Who Roams Wide was waiting for me at the front of the house and I knew that She Without An Ear would be keeping an eye on the rear. Although we knew that what had happened to Nick hadn’t been their fault any more than it had been mine, they were making up for what they perceived as their failure to guard the house. We were all out of practice these days but there was no point saying that aloud; words were easy to deliver but feelings – and guilt – were far, far harder to deal with.
When I walked down the garden path and out of the gate,He Who Roams Wide followed me. As soon as I stepped onto the dirty cobbled street, He Who Crunches Bird Bones slunk out and took up the position of watchful guard in front of me. His white fur meant that he was visible to anyone who passed by, which was the point.
I tipped an imaginary hat in his direction and indicated to He Who Roams Wide to wait, then I nipped into Dave’s garden and dropped a sealed envelope on his doorstep – it was my insurance and my instructions if I didn’t return. In the event that I came home hale and hearty, I’d pick up the envelope long before Dave saw it and he’d never know that I’d designated him as the executor of my last will and testament. It paid to be prudent, however, especially when one had cats to look out for.
Satisfied, I went back to He Who Roams Wide. ‘Ready?’ I asked softly. He offered me a quiet purr of acquiescence and we set off.
I didn’t see a soul until I reached the end of my street, although there were plenty of lights on in the houses I passed. He Who Roams Wide and I moved silently – at least I’d not lost all of my skills. We padded to the crossroads and looked up and down to check the way ahead. I was still concerned that the red-haired werewolf was watching my every move but there was no indication he was there; in fact, nobody was around apart from a ban sith wailing outside the block of flats on the corner.
He Who Roams Wide took point and sauntered towards the howling woman. When she paused mid-wail and reached down to scratch his ears, he responded with a delighted chirrup. I didn’t acknowledge her: the last thing I needed right now was to become the target of her shrieks.
I crossed the street and stopped at the tram stop. Right on cue, a tram trundled into view. The tram witches kept themgoing all night and they were often busier in the wee hours than they were during the day.
This time I was prepared and had plenty of tokens to choose from. I dropped two into the driver’s outstretched palm and beckoned urgently to He Who Roams Wide because I knew the driver wouldn’t wait for a cat. Fortunately, the sleek black tom understood and hastily abandoned the ban sith’s scritches in favour of joining me on board. Before the doors slid shut, the ban sith resumed her wailing. Nobody in that block of flats would be getting much sleep tonight.
I snagged a seat halfway down opposite a well-dressed man reading a newspaper. He Who Roams Wide stared unapologetically until the man looked up and blinked in surprise. He smiled. ‘Cute cat,’ he commented. ‘You’ve got him well trained.’
‘It’s more like the other way around,’ I said.
The man laughed heartily even though my remark hadn’t been that funny and reached out to stroke He Who Roams Wide. My cat, however, wasn’t in the mood for any more petting. Denied the opportunity to unsheath his claws, he ignored the outstretched hand and turned instead to the other tram passengers with a look that suggested he was daring them to challenge his presence. When nobody came forward to complain, he sniffed and hopped onto the seat next to mine.
‘Disappointed?’ I asked. I nodded towards the next tram stop. I’d already seen who was waiting to board. ‘I wouldn’t worry. You’ll have your fun soon.’
The next man who heaved himself on board was huge, though not in terms of height: he was probably only five feet tall. He was incredibly wide, however; his shoulders spanned at least two feet and he had to step sideways like a crab to fit through the tram door. Maybe he was somehow related to crustaceans; he was certainly red enough in the face to bear more than a passing resemblance to a cooked lobster. I’d haveassumed he had some troll or ogre blood, but I’d never seen such a vertically challenged version of either species.
It wasn’t the man who engaged He Who Roams Wide’s interest, it was his dog, a slavering, three-headed beast that was as wide as its owner.
