Page 18 of Waifs And Strays
Although I was a cat person, I liked dogs; there was something to be appreciated about their biddable nature, plus I had a lot of time for a waggy tail. This dog proved an exception.
This particular monstrosity wasn’t a natural creation: some witch’s coven with more interest in profit than sense had poured magic into several generations of puppy litters to create it. No doubt they’d marketed it as a nod to the fabled dog Cerberus, though the hideous furred thing shouldn’t have been allowed to exist. I didn’t blame the dog, just the arseholes who’d made it and the idiot owner who’d probably paid a fortune for him.
I kept that thought in mind when the dog’s nearest head caught wind of He Who Roams Wide and started snapping and growling in our direction. The other two heads followed suit and suddenly the man was straining to hold the dog’s leash. If his hand slipped, the dog would bound forward to rip He Who Roams Wide to bloody shreds. Or try to.
‘Who the fuck brings a cat on a tram?’ the man bellowed. Several of the nearest passengers were already on their feet and moving towards the back of the tram. When the well-dressed man next to me shot me a concerned look I smiled serenely, but unfortunately that only enraged the newcomer further.
The tram driver engaged the controls and we jolted forward, making the dog’s owner wobble despite his low centre of gravity. He lurched towards me, all three dog heads snapping, growling and drooling.
He Who Roams Wide licked his paw delicately. The only sign that the dog’s presence discomfited him was a faint puffingup of the fur around his tail. I knew exactly what he was thinking and I hoped the dog was ready. ‘Don’t hurt him too much,’ I murmured.
He Who Roams Wide pretended not to hear. He stood up, flattened his ears against his head and fixed the three-headed dog with a narrow-eyed stare that promised death.
The man gaped as the barking and growling faded away. The middle head gave a small whine whilst the other two heads dropped their gaze, then the dog lowered its body to the floor in submission. It had taken seconds, and He Who Roams Wide hadn’t so much as extended a single claw. As was often the case with success, it was all about self-belief and attitude.
Unfortunately, the dog’s owner was less impressed. ‘What the fuck did you do to my dog?’ He glared at me as if I’d cast some sort of subduing spell, which I clearly had not.
‘Your dog is fine,’ I said calmly.
‘Look at him!’
I glanced down. Yep, he looked fine to me apart from the three heads, and there was nothing I could do about those. He was even wagging his tail, admittedly more from anxiety than happiness, but even so…
‘You shouldn’t have messed with us!’ the man bellowed. ‘I’m going to fuck you up!’
My aim had been to defuse the situation not ramp it up, but now I was growing irritated. I met his eyes. ‘I am having a very bad day,’ I said quietly. ‘I would like nothing more than to get to my feet right now and bring you to your knees.’
The man opened his mouth to snarl a response but I held up my palm. I dropped the mild façade I usually displayed and gave him my best death stare. It wasn’t on a par with He Who Roams Wide’s but it wasn’t far off.I’m capable of many terrible things, I conveyed silently.If you cross me, you will regret it.
The man’s shoulders dropped an inch and he took a stepbackwards as he started to work out that I might not look like much but I was capable of a whole lot. Appearances in Coldstream could often be deceptive; from the man’s expression, he’d made a similar error in the past and it had cost him. Perhaps he’d acquired a three-headed dog because he wanted protection from the big nasties in the world. Big nasties like me.
His lip curled briefly in a final show of defiance. ‘I’ll leave you alone this time,’ he said loudly for the benefit of the other passengers, ‘because I’m a good guy and I don’t want to hurt a woman.’ He wagged his fingers. ‘But don’t you and your damned cat come near me and my dog again.’
He tugged on the leash and dragged away the canine monstrosity to the furthest corner of the tram.
The well-dressed commuter opposite me adjusted his purple tie. ‘Impressive,’ he murmured. ‘Next time I need protection, I’ll be sure to get a cat rather than a dog.’
I gave him a polite smile then focused on He Who Roams Wide. ‘If only everything were that easy,’ I said to him. He was already curling up into a tight ball to snooze away the rest of the journey.
I sighed. ‘If only.’
Chapter
Eight
Iwasn’t reckless enough to take the tram all the way to the MacTire stronghold. The more time I spent faffing around the more danger Nick faced, but the wrong move could also spell his demise.
I certainly wouldn’t do the kid any good if I ended up dead, and alerting the MacTires could easily result in my wolf-gnawed corpse, so I disembarked four stops before my destination. None of the tram passengers looked at me as I left, and the man and his three-headed dog stared resolutely out of the window. That was good enough for me.
As soon as the tram doors closed behind me, I twisted into the nearest alleyway with He Who Roams Wide at my heels. The darkness swallowed us up within a heartbeat.
I waited until the tram’s purple sparks were long gone then sidled out of the alleyway and started to march briskly. My feet still ached from my earlier trudge home but I had far greater concerns than sore feet. I maintained a steady pace, taking care not to expel too much energy, and thankfully it was only just after two in the morning when the high walls of the MacTire stronghold came into view.
I found a small nook between an old church and an ironmonger’s store and glanced down at He Who Roams Wide. ‘It’s been a while since we’ve done this,’ I murmured. ‘Can you manage?’ The cat glared at me, annoyed that I’d even asked the question.
I dropped my bag and checked my equipment. Anything that wasn’t touching my bare skin wouldn’t survive what I was about to do. Although this was technically reconnaissance, if my investigation proved that Alexander MacTire had abducted his own nephew I had to be prepared to act so I was carrying everything I might need.
Only when I was satisfied with the throwing knife strapped to my bare ankle, the poison taped to my thigh beneath my black trousers, the small bag of herbs with emergency spells positioned near my chest, and the tiny – but often useful – gun at my back did I reach down and pluck a small tuft of black fur from near the cat’s hind legs.
