Page 6 of Waifs And Strays
She stopped chewing long enough to snuffle at me, and I reached up and stroked her long nose. She shivered in delight before gently nudging me out of the way. Maggie had priorities and if I wasn’t food, I wasn’t one of them.
Patting her rump, I sidled past her and Maggie obliged by moving sideways until the road was completely blocked by her massive furry body. The werewolves would be trapped behind her for several minutes, which was good news. Although our confrontation was inevitable, it would be nice if I could get my shopping done before any blood was spilled.
I started to whistle and picked up my pace; if my luck held, there would still be some fresh morning loaves for sale.
Chapter
Three
Close to 700,000 souls lived in Coldstream, so there were plenty of places to shop. The open-air market by the River Tweed was by far my favourite, even when it was blowing a hoolie and there was sideways hail. The ground there managed to be both sludgy and slippery, the aroma was often less than appetising, and you had to keep one eye on the murky depths of the river because there were numerous sharp-teethed creatures living in the water who’d take any opportunity to steal your shopping right out of your hands. Or grab a small child.
However, the market was also one of the few places in Coldstream that boasted a wide-open view. The river stretched in both directions, and the swathes of farmland, trees and small isolated buildings across the water and the border with England provided a treat for eyes used to crowded streets and higgledy-piggledy stone buildings.
It was true that not all the stallholders were friendly – in fact, some made a point of being as rude as possible – but they were honest to a fault. I’ve never heard of any of them trying to rip off a punter. For me, there was also considerable comfort infamiliarity; I knew who these people were and I’d never come across any of them during my previous line of work, which counted for a lot.
I dropped off my bag of rose cuttings and spent a minute or two perusing the hedge-witch’s wares before buying a small bottle of enchanted repellent that would keep the cats out of Dave’s garden. It would also discourage birds, mice and insects but Dave wasn’t interested in maintaining a healthy ecosystem so I figured that didn’t matter.
Next I loped over to the baker and managed to snag his last seeded loaf together with several tasty-looking pastries that I suspected Nick would appreciate. By the time I was at the butcher’s stall and considering the merits of a venison haunch, the two werewolves had caught up to me – and they were no longer interested in keeping their distance.
‘I suppose you think you’re clever,’ the female hissed in my left ear before taking my arm.
The male appeared on my right and took hold of my other arm; they were clearly planning to frogmarch me out of the market. It was rare for anyone to be so brash and open with their violent intentions in such a public place.
The butcher, a muscular troll called Natasha with a penchant for swirling enchanted tattoos, sensed she was on the verge of losing a customer and took umbrage at the werewolves’ presence. ‘Oi!’ she bellowed. ‘Leave that poor woman alone!’
I almost grinned. Poor woman. That was me.
‘This doesn’t concern you,’ the male wolf growled. His voice was so deep and croaky that he sounded as if he’d swallowed a frog. I decided that Ribbit would be a good name for him.
I glanced at his lankier female companion. She had pursed her lips in an extraordinary duck-like fashion so I christened her Quack.
Natasha was not going to be intimidated by a pair of werewolves. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at them. ‘You’re not regulars! You can’t storm in here and harass people! You’ve got no right.’
I wondered whether that meant she’d have looked on their tactics more benevolently if they attended the market more frequently; anything was possible where Natasha was concerned.
I widened my eyes and affected a tremor. ‘I’ve not done anything wrong,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m only doing my weekly shopping.’
Several of the other stallholders were eyeing us with interest. I spotted two young witches carefully lower their shopping bags to the ground and roll up their sleeves. This could end badly for the werewolves but fortunately, Ribbit and Quack had come to the same conclusion. They exchanged glances over my head and dropped their hands.
‘We meant no disrespect,’ Ribbit croaked.
Quack nodded. ‘We only want to talk to her.’ She paused then let her black coat fall open to reveal the silver insignia emblazoned on her chest.
I stiffened. I didn’t need to examine the design to know what it meant: only one werewolf pack dared to use silver to advertise its family name. It wasn’t that the colour was dangerous but by using it, even in embroidery, they were declaring they weren’t afraid of anything. Nothing would stop them from getting what they wanted.
Shocked whispers rippled through the crowd. ‘MacTire. They’re MacTire wolves.’
Arse. Nick could have mentioned which pack his uncle hailed from – then again, I could have asked. It hadn’t occurred to me it would be the MacTires and that changed things considerably.
I cleared my throat. ‘Let me finish my shopping,’ I said. ‘I have to get some meat, then grab some veggies at the grocer’s. Oh, and I’ll pick up some fish for my cats at the fishmonger. I’ll meet you for coffee at Black’s.’ I was going to have to talk to the werewolves sooner or later so it might as well be in a comfortable chair whilst I drank the best brew in Coldstream.
Suspicion clouded Ribbit’s face. ‘Twenty minutes,’ I told him and looked at Quack. ‘I give you my word.’
There was another sharp intake of breath from the onlookers. Metaphorically, I’d dropped to the ground and displayed my belly; then again, I was only a middle-aged woman with no weapons who was wearing old clothes covered in cat hair. My submission couldn’t bethatsurprising.
‘Fine,’ Quack said. ‘Twenty minutes.’ She bared her teeth. ‘Or you belong to us.’
Unsurprisingly,I was ushered to the front of the queue at the other stalls; nobody wanted to be the reason why I didn’t show up at Black’s on time. If I hadn’t had other concerns, I’d have been touched.
