Page 10 of The Dark Hiss of Magic
‘Nicholas is good. I’m sure he’d like to see you at some point. Maybe you should come around and say hello.’
‘Sure,’ I said in that polite manner of someone who would never do such a thing. A tiny smile played around MacTire’s mouth as he recognised the very British nature of my response.
He changed the subject. ‘I heard what happened at the Danksville river market today. I also heard that you were involved.’
He was disturbingly well-informed. ‘Not according to Quentin Hightower.’
‘I know what Hightower is like,’ MacTire said. ‘There were reports of you and Barrow appearing in soaking wet clothes not long after he did.’
There were several responses I could have made but I elected to say nothing. MacTire already knew too much; he didn’t need any information from me to fill in the gaps.
‘I also heard that there was another victim,’ he went on.
The two young women in front of me were now being served, their attention finally pulled away from the werewolf in favour of the delights of the delicatessen. I sighed. ‘Not many other people have.’
MacTire quirked an eyebrow. ‘Are you surprised? There are plenty of anonymous deaths in Coldstream.’ His smile returned. ‘You should know that better than anyone.’
Yeah, yeah. Alexander MacTire knew what I used to do for a living because he’d hired me to kill his father.
‘It’s not fair,’ he continued, interpreting my expression correctly. ‘But it is the way of things.’
The pale face of the unnamed corpse flashed into my mind again. ‘It shouldn’t be.’ I looked at the front of the queue. What the hell was I doing here, standing in a shop? If I was planning to wait around for other people to change the world, I’d be waiting a long time.
Whoever had died in the Tweed deserved better than an anonymous burial. The least I could do was ensure his name was revealed and his family were informed. It wasn’t as if I were still an assassin. It might be fun to play the good guy for a change.
I stepped aside. ‘You can have my spot. There’s something I need to do.’ I nodded at him. ‘Thank you, Mr MacTire.’
He grimaced. ‘Alexander, please.’
‘Alexander.’ I raised a hand in farewell and walked out of the shop.
Calculating where the nearest tram stop was located and how I could get to the Mathers Street mortuary with the fewest complications, I turned left. Before I’d taken three steps, the bell on the deli door behind me jangled again.
‘Wait,’ MacTire said. ‘Before you go, Kit, I’d like to ask you out to dinner.’
Say what? I turned my head to stare at the werewolf alpha. ‘You’ve already thanked me for what happened with Nick. It’s water under the bridge.’
‘That’s not why I want to have dinner with you.’ He smiled disarmingly. Damn, he was good-looking. ‘I’d like to take you out on a date. Hearts, flowers.’ He spread out his arms. ‘The whole shebang.’
I couldn’t have been more surprised if Quentin Hightower had appeared out of nowhere and thanked me for saving his life. ‘Uh…’
Amusement danced in the werewolf’s eyes. ‘I’ll have you home by midnight. I promise.’
I crossed my arms over my chest then immediately uncrossed them. Don’t be awkward, Kit, I told myself. It doesn’t suit you.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be searching for a mate so you can continue the MacTire line?’ I asked.
It wasn’t a given that any of Alexander MacTire’s progeny would rise to the vaulted position of alpha, but there was still pressure on him to settle down and reproduce. One of his own werewolves had tried to spike his coffee with magical Viagra to encourage his – er – inner lust.
He didn’t attempt to deny it. ‘I am.’
‘I’m not a werewolf.’
‘I am aware of that fact.’ He showed me his teeth. ‘I’ve decided to extend my search beyond my lupine kinsfolk.’
‘I’m a committed cat lady, Mr MacTire.’
‘I’ve already told you to call me Alexander,’ he said. ‘And I like cats.’
