Page 2 of Fixer
Wade’s glare could’ve set me on fire.His snarl ofGo awaywith exaggerated lip motionswas clear enough.Then he yanked the curtains shut, blocking out even that sliver of a view.
I could’ve broken through the glass, of course.But I’d hardly make him like me better by smashing my way into his private space and fighting him.Part of me wanted to do it anyway, to grab him and wrestle him to a standstill, to punish him for putting me through years of not knowing if he was even alive.My rank had been higher than Wade’s, I was in fur to his skin, and I had many more years of fighting experience.I could take him.
But of course, I’d done far, far worse to him.
Time to regroup.Coming up the fire escape had been as stupidly impulsive as I’d suspected.But I’d seen Wade alive and well.Nothing, not even the awareness that he clearly wanted to kill me, or that I’d apparently lost my common sense, could extinguish the spark of joy inside me.I’ve found him.He’s safe.The rest was logistics.I’d always been good at those.
Going down a steep stair on paws was always harder than going up.Still, my pride wouldn’t let me be clumsy or noisy as I retreated.Wade was certainly listening, calculating each step I took here in his territory.No doubt planning his attack at our next encounter.
What did you expect, you fool, a hug?It was a good thing we wolvesneverused guns to settle our differences, or he might’ve considered a bullet to my head.But now I had his location confirmed, and all the time in the world to change his mind.Once I was safely back in skin, my patience could surely outlast his.
I sprang down to the dumpster, the hollow clang under my weight a signal for Wade that I was leaving.His sharp ears would pick up the softer thud of paws on concrete as I reached the ground, too.I’d stashed my clothes and belongings a couple of blocks away.Slinking through the back alleys, I headed toward my stuff.A rustling in the trash and a whiff of warm-blooded prey made me take a moment to turn aside.One leap, a snap, and an unwary rat made a light snack.Still, I’d need to eat properly after I shifted.
I’d left my backpack tucked down in a wooden pen made to hold trash bins.Not the cleanest location, but fairly safe from human prying.The angle between the pen and the building’s brick wall gave me an enclosed space to shift in, not visible from any windows.I slunk into the narrow space and lay down.
Shifting was second nature to me now, no matter how impossible it had felt at thirteen, the first time my Alpha pushed me out of skin and into fur.I stretched out on my side on the pavement, closed my eyes, and reached up to the universe for the golden energy that made shifting possible.Like the Northern Lights but invisible to the naked eye, that power suffused the air around and above me, translucent and shimmering, insubstantial and yet, when I snagged it with my mind and pulled, a vast power that flowed into me with a heady rush.
My wolf body gloried for a moment in being filled with that light.The place in my head that should’ve held pack bonds and my link to my Alpha yearned toward that power.I’d been dark and empty for so long.But what I needed now was to shift.Human hands, human voice.I pushed my dark-gray fur and long snout down inside, fought to turn wide paws into hairless fingers and opposable thumbs.
Come on, Dustin, get it together.
My human form shoved the wolf aside, assembling skin and bones, muscle and voice.The warp and rebuild of my body sent an ache through every part of me, grinding soreness and sharper pangs that were as necessary to my life as breathing.The nasty scent of the garbage in the dumpster faded in my human nose, the hardness of the cracked pavement under my hip sharpened as fur gave way to skin.
A couple of minutes later, I stood, shook out my hands, and peered around the corner of the dumpster.The alley was as deserted as you’d expect for that hour of night.I dragged the wooden gate of the enclosure open enough to pull my canvas pack into my private nook and dressed, happy to put sweatpants over my bare ass and stuff my feet into sneakers.The April chill wasn’t a problem for me as a wolf— we liked cooler temperatures— but being spotted with no clothes on was always a risk.The seventies might be making their mark as the era of streaking, but that meant on a college football field, not some dark alley in the middle of the night.Most humans would call the cops if they saw me without pants.
Once I was dressed, I dug in the pocket of the pack to finger the thick envelope there.A dozen snapshots that should make Wade stop and think.The question was how to avoid having him just rip them up or throw them in my face and then try to kill me.Wade had always been slow to anger, but once he tipped over that edge, he burned white-hot for a long time.
Maybe a gradual approach.I’d been our pack Fixer— the go-to guy who solved problems— for eight years.I could figure out the right way to get to Wade.As long as he didn’t run again…
Six a.m.found me loitering outside Wade’s building.I’d fed myself a double breakfast at an all-night diner a mile away, caught a catnap on a bench in a rundown park, and made my way back in the dawn light.I had a plan, and the only variable was how to put the first part in motion.
My chance came close to seven, when a woman carrying a bulky box came through the lobby to the front door and tried to wrestle it open.I jogged up the steps to hold the door for her, and as she passed me with a thank-you, a young teen boy came trudging toward us from the sidewalk.I kept the door open for him too.He nodded to me, heading inside, and I asked, “Hey, do you know Wade?Wade McKinley?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Can you stick this in his mailbox for me?”I held out a much-slimmer envelope with one photo in it.
The kid stared at me, no doubt wondering why I didn’t take the ten steps inside and do the job myself.Thing was, I had zero doubts that this beat-up tenement was Wade’s territory.His scent was all around the exterior.Every other building on the block had a patina of old and new graffiti, layers upon layers, but what little spray paint marred this building was old and fading.There were no broken windows patched with brown paper.The litter of cigarette butts and cracked bottles in the alleys became sparse within ten feet of this one.A werewolf cared for his territory.
I wanted Wade to listen to me, and invading his space while he hated my guts wasn’t the way to do it.“I’m in a hurry,” I said.“Here, two bucks for your trouble.”
That was plenty of incentive to forget his doubts.The kid snatched the bills and envelope and let the lobby door close between us.I watched through the glass as he slipped my little surprise into one of the mailbox slots, then unlocked the inner door and let himself through.
There.Step two.Where step one had been all the years spent finding Wade.
I’d give Wade a day to see my message.In the evening, I’d be back around to find out how he responded.
Whistling to myself, pretending more optimism than I felt, I headed down the street toward my car, parked three blocks away.My 1957 Chevy, was getting on in years, almost old enough to drink now, so I’d felt safe leaving the clunker at the curb in this neighborhood.Still, I was relieved to see the car was still there with all its tires intact and its trunk not forced open.
My wolf down inside resisted leaving the building, wanting to go back andmakeWade listen.But that man had been a stubborn shit at fifteen, and there was no reason to think that’d changed.Patience,I reminded myself.Don’t fuck up years of work in one day.
I was tempted to drive down to Chicago and spend the day at home with my battered wooden desk and my filing cabinets and my darkroom, the phone I answered myself— no secretaries wanted, thank you— and all the trappings of my PI life.Except I’d never be able to pull my focus from Wade.I’d just spend two hours driving back and forth to stare at my desk for hours, imagining Wade taking out that envelope, sniffing it, opening it….Maybe I’d get out my Illinois map, find the nearest forested park, and go hunt rabbits for a few hours.That at least would make my wolf happy.
Chapter 2
Wade
I hadn’t slept all night.I also hadn’t left my apartment, even though my wolf battered at the inside of my head, urging me to chase Dustin down and attack him, kill him, rip him to shreds.Or to follow him and find his lair, plot and plan his utter destruction.I’d paced for hours, growling, grinding my teeth, reminding myself over and over to unclench my fists and breathe like a normal person.
