Page 2 of Waifs And Strays
‘You’re fifteen years old,’ I said. ‘If that.’
He scowled. ‘I am not!’ I waited and he looked away. ‘I’m sixteen,’ he mumbled.
Although he was probably telling the truth, he had folded far too easily for a sixteen year old. His cheeks were mottled red with embarrassment, but he was trying to mask more than mere shame. Interesting.
Suddenly I suspected there was more to his story than an angry rebellion against his parents. ‘What’s your name?’
He hesitated, as if weighing up the merits of another lie. ‘Nick,’ he said eventually. He drew in a breath. ‘And I’ve got money. I’m not looking for charity.’ He dug into his pocket, withdrew a wad of cash and held it out to me.
‘Put that away!’ I barked. He had a damned death wish. This wasDanksville; nobody waved that sort of money around here unless they had a personal army as back-up – and even then they’d be taking a risk.
‘It’s six months’ rent up front,’ Nick said, with the edge of a whine. ‘My money is as good as anyone else’s.’
He’d obviously misunderstood my reason for telling him to put the cash away. Whowasthis kid? And where had he got all that money from? I sighed, then nodded towards the front door. ‘Come on,’ I said, hoping I wasn’t going to regret it. ‘Let’s talk inside.’
I put on the kettle and pointed at the kitchen table. Nick took one look at it and stepped back, crowding the doorway with his lanky frame. ‘Is there a problem?’ I asked.
He gestured wordlessly towards the old fruit bowl which contained not fruit but the curled up, gently snoring, ginger-furred form of He Who Must Sleep.
Ah. I nodded. ‘He doesn’t mind werewolves. He’ll barely notice you.’
As if on cue, He Who Must Sleep opened one lazy eye and gazed at Nick then closed it again and gave a brief sigh.
‘What is it with you and cats?’ Nick asked, relaxing slightly.
There weren’t enough hours in the day to answer that question so I offered my stock response. ‘They keep me company.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He stayed where he was in the doorway, still flicking nervous glances in He Who Must Sleep’s direction, then he swallowed hard and stepped bravely into the kitchen. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs and perched on the edge of its seat. When He Who Must Sleep continued to ignore him, his shoulders dropped and he relaxed some more.
I looked down. She Without An Ear was preparing to wind herself around Nick’s legs. When she rubbed her head againsthis calf, he glanced down and froze. ‘She won’t bite you,’ I said. ‘As long as you?—'
He reached down nervously as if to stroke her. She Without An Ear whipped round and snapped at his fingers. Nick yelped and drew back.
‘—don’t try and touch her,’ I finished.
The boy straightened up and folded his arms tightly around his body.
‘If you have a problem with cats, you can’t rent the flat,’ I said. ‘The cats come and go through the whole building as they please. Although there are four flats, only two of them are habitable at the moment – this one and the one directly upstairs that you’re asking about.’
‘You’ll let me stay?’ Nick asked, his eyes flaring with hope.
I gave him a long look. ‘I’m considering it.’
‘I love cats!’ he declared. I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. ‘I can learn to love them.’ His voice rose at the end of his sentence so I wasn’t sure whether he was asking a question or offering a statement. I suspected that neither was he.
‘You don’t need to love them, you only need to co-exist with them.’
‘Then I will do that.’ He held out his hand as if it were a done deal.
I made no move to shake on it. ‘I haven’t agreed yet.’
His mouth curved into an arrogant smile that gave me another flash of his lupine genes. ‘You will.’
Yeah, probably, but he didn’t need to know that. I maintained a tight frown until he dropped his hand and his smile melted away. I hadn’t lost all of my skills; that was something.
‘I’m sorry I called you a bitch.’ Nick bit his lip. ‘And I’m sorry I scared that other cat away. I’m sorry that?—’
I held up my hand and his voice faltered mid-sentence.Good. I had no desire to hear a string of apologies that he likely didn’t mean. ‘First I have questions,’ I said sternly, ‘What are you running from?’
