Silver Kiss (5 page)

I obligingly gave her the finger. “Where do
we start?”

She looked at me consideringly, eyes
lingering on my lip piercing. “Where does that go when you shift?”
she asked, sounding almost worried. “Does it fall out?”

“
It stays in.” I toyed with
the piercing, edgy under her sudden scrutiny. “Does it
matter?”

She flipped her dark curls, a nervous
gesture to match my own. “I never thought about it, really. In the
books it always makes out that piercing is this big taboo for
werewolves—that only the really kinky masochists get it done.”

“
Maybe I am a kinky
masochist,” I said. Kaye’s eyes widened and she sat down in her
chair, putting a little distance between us.

Being this close to her wore at my temper.
To my wolf, she smelled equally angry and nervous, a mix of cold
sweat and hot adrenaline. It surprised me. I’d put her antagonism
down to my sexuality more than my species, never figuring she was
just plain afraid of wolves. It made me feel a little sorry for her
and a little irritated. I was suddenly no longer interested in
learning the ancient art of body modification.

I made a show of checking my watch. “Almost
lunch time,” I announced. I poked my head round the curtain to
catch Calvin’s eyes. “Is it okay if I go now? I’ve got to meet
Vince.”

“
Sure,” he said. “You can
both go if you want. It’s like the Marie Celeste in here
today.”

“
Great.” Kaye barreled past
me like she had a burr in her tail. “I’m meeting Gareth for lunch.”
She flashed me a too-sweet smile. “I guess your girlfriend is too
busy to meet you.”

My sympathy for her evaporated.

“
Yeah, my girlfriend has a
full-time job,” I said, pulling on my battered jacket. “I guess
your boyfriend doesn’t?”

“
He’s rich enough not to
have to work. He’s a financial consultant.”

“
No accounting for taste
then.” It was a crap joke, but it let me get the last word in as I
shot out the door before Kaye could fire anything back.

Although it was nearly midday, a thick mist
filled the streets and the roads were slippery with black ice. It
was one of the nastiest, longest winters I could remember. My
breath fogged in the air and I tugged my coat tighter around
myself. Vince was a sous-chef at the Tipsy Fox, a gastro pub in the
city center. I was already daydreaming about steak sandwiches as I
headed there. Maybe even a Scotch to chase the cold away.

The Tipsy Fox was nestled between an
antiques shop and one of those fancy boutiques that sold frilly,
impractical underwear. The smell of yeasty beer and steak and
kidney pie greeted me as I pushed open the door and the mixed
sounds of low chat and loud yelling hit my sensitive ears. The
yelling was coming from the kitchen and I recognized Vince’s voice
as the one doing the shouting.

I didn’t even pretend not to be nosey. Vince
wasn’t a raise-your-voice type. I strolled to the bar and leaned
over it, straining my ears to catch the words.

“–
bloody zombies! It’s not
fair, Greg, and I’m not putting up with it!” Vince sounded
genuinely pissed. I heard metal slamming on metal, then a shimmying
echo, like he’d thrown a pan across the kitchen.

“
He’s my son and this is my
pub and I make the rules!” A new voice, raspy and exasperated. “You
don’t like it, Vince, that’s tough.”

“
Can I get you a
drink?”

I jumped as a barmaid slid into my line of
sight and I pulled back from the bar, flushed. “Uh, yeah, just a
coke, please. And a steak sandwich with extra chips.”

She smiled sweetly. “Take a seat and I’ll
bring it over when it’s ready.”

I cornered a table by the huge brick
fireplace. It was lit, the flames dancing low in the grate. I
watched the patterns they cast on the pale brickwork, entranced,
until Vince stormed out from the kitchen and threw himself into the
chair next to mine.

“
Bloody twat,” he muttered
rebelliously, glaring at the tabletop. He picked up a coaster and
began shredding it. “Why do I work here, Ayla?”

“
Because you like giving me
discounted drinks?”

“
We’re not allowed to do
that anymore. Greg’s clamping down. We’re not even allowed to drink
here when we’re off shift anymore,” he said distractedly.
“God!”

“
What’s wrong?” I asked,
pulling a few scraps of coaster from him and tossing them in the
fire. “I’ve never heard you yell like that.”

“
A few of the bar staff
have been calling in sick a lot, Oscar included. He hasn’t been in
since Lupercali. It’s getting ridiculous and it means the rest of
us have to fill in for them. I’m not a bloody waiter, Ayla, I’m a
chef. I don’t want to be pulling pints and serving food. I don’t
get paid for that.”

“
So why doesn’t Greg just
sack them?” I wondered aloud. “There’s always going to be kids
after waiting jobs.”

“
Because he’s an idiot.”
Vince slumped down in his seat, resting his arms on the table.
“They’re off getting stoned on their bloody freaky cigarettes and
leaving the rest of us to pick up the slack. You can’t run a
business like that. Oscar’s the worst of the bunch—he used to be
such a nice kid, too. You saw him on Sunday night and he was fine,
wasn’t he? And this morning he’s ringing in sick and swearing at
people when they call him on it.”

Silver
Kiss
. I was starting to feel like I was
missing out. Lawrence lazed around on his breaks, puffing on the
stuff and extolling its soothing virtues. Calvin frowned on it, but
then Calvin also frowned on drinking, gambling and watching porn.
Silver Kiss seemed harmless enough to me and Lawrence certainly
wasn’t acting stoned. “He did seem fine at Lupercali,” I said. “A
bit spacey, but…”

“
He’s turned into a
complete little shit,” Vince said. “He—” He stopped himself when
the barmaid appeared with my sandwich, then carried on in a lower
tone as she left. “He’s got really aggressive and nasty lately.
When he’s here, I mean.”

I ate without really tasting my sandwich. “I
don’t suppose he’s friends with a girl called Molly Brady, is
he?”

Vince straightened up, expression suddenly
sharp. “Brady? Like Tina Brady?”

I nodded, mouth full of chips and
mayonnaise.

“
Wasn’t she made outcast a
few years ago?” he mused, helping himself to my chips. “I remember
the alphas putting the word around.”

“
What did she
do?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. So, what, Molly’s her
kid? Why do you ask? Is this Shannon’s new case? Something to do
with the Bradys?” His eyes gleamed. “I smell scandal, Ayla.”

“
Client confidentiality,
Vince. I can’t reveal any information.”

“
She’s not your client
though, is she? Come on, if you’re going to pump me for
information, you’ve got to tell me.” He nudged me. “Is Molly in
trouble? What is it, drugs? Prostitution? Arms dealing?”

I shook my head and took a bite of the
sandwich. Steak and onion prevented me from answering him. While I
chewed, the door to the pub opened, bringing a gust of cold wind
with it that sent the flames rippling around the hearth. Oscar
sauntered in, the heavy odor of cloves rolling off him. His eyes
were bloodshot, his hair greasy and the sight of him raised my
hackles. My wolf snarled inside me, pawing to get out. Surprised at
my own reaction, I elbowed Vince and pointed at Oscar.

Vince curled his lip in his own silent
snarl. “Look at him. I can’t believe his dad thinks this is
okay.”

Oscar went to the bar, shoving other people
aside and thumped his fist down on the wood. “Hey! Can I get a
drink already? Fuck’s sake, my dad owns this fucking place!”

The barmaid who’d served me shot him a dark
look. “Oscar,” she warned. “Don’t start.” She glanced around the
busy pub. People were trying not to stare, but a horrible tension
had fallen over the room.

“
I’ve already started.” He
thumped the bar again. “Come on, give me a beer, Mel. You can
follow that with a vodka.”

“
You’re not old enough,”
Mel said, sounding impressively calm. I’d have smacked him already.
Then again, she was human, so staying calm in the face of an angry
adolescent werewolf was really her only choice.

“
It’s my dad’s fucking
pub!” Oscar roared. People were watching openly now, no longer
pretending to ignore the scene. Oscar leaned across the bar,
jabbing his finger in Mel’s face. “Give me a fucking drink before I
come round there and give you a slap.”

My wolf howled inside me, outraged. I leapt
to my feet. Vince did the same, pushing me back as he stormed over
to Oscar.

“
That’s enough,” he said
through clenched teeth, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and
dragging him into the kitchen. Oscar struggled, but Vince had a
good foot on him in height and an adult wolf’s strength. I
followed, but Vince slammed the kitchen door in my face, leaving me
fuming and wild. I sucked in a deep breath and turned to Mel, who
was clutching the bar, knuckles white.

“
Are you okay?” I asked
her.

She gave me a strained smile. “Kids these
days!” She managed a laugh that was apparently good enough to
assure the other customers. With Oscar out of sight, they returned
to their drinks and meals and the tension ebbed away.

“
I can’t believe that!” I
said. “I met him at Lupercali and he seemed really nice!” My wolf
growled, telling me again that there was just something plain wrong
with Oscar. “He threatened to hit you!”

Mel released her death grip on the bar and
sighed. “Spoilt,” she said with a shrug. “My son knows better than
to talk like that to his parents. But Greg’s soft—Oscar’s his only
son.”

I wasn’t sure that was an excuse. Wolves
didn’t bear children easily so there was a tendency to indulge
them. But that didn’t explain Oscar’s behavior. That wasn’t a
spoilt child having a tantrum. That was a near fully-grown werewolf
on a rampage. I glanced to the closed kitchen door, listening for
Vince or Greg. It was Oscar I heard though.

“
Who the hell do you think
you are? You can’t push me around—I practically own this fucking
place!”

I winced, trying once again to reconcile
this furious, foul-mouthed wolf with the mellow one I’d met just
two nights ago. I just couldn’t mesh the images.

Glancing at my watch, I told myself it was
none of my business. I had to be back at work soon. I finished up
my sandwich, which was now cold, the bread soggy with steak juice
and threw some money on the bar. I wanted to check that Vince was
okay before I left, but judging from the now hushed but still angry
voices in the kitchen, he wasn’t coming out any time soon.

Telling myself more firmly it was nothing to
do with me, I headed back to work.

I managed to put the whole scene out of my mind and spent the rest
of the day getting a terse lesson in the basics of piercing from
Kaye. By the time we closed up, I was worn out from fending off
snide comments and firing back my own. I had a sneaking suspicion
Calvin had paired us off in an attempt to make us bond. It hadn’t
worked.

I’d just left Inked when Lawrence strolled
out to walk with me.

“
Fancy a drink?” he asked.
“I’ve been stuck in that bloody basement all day. I need some human
company!”

“
Why not?” I said, feeling
I deserved a drink for not throttling Kaye. “Let me call Shannon
and see if she’s up for it.”

“
Sure.” He released me to
light up a cigarette while I called Shannon. She sounded tired and
frustrated and readily agreed to a drink.

“
See you at Silks in half
an hour?” she suggested. “I need to finish up some
paperwork.”

“
Silks?” I said to
Lawrence.

“
Yeah, alright.” He zipped
up his jacket and blew a stream of smoke into the air. “Never been
to a gay werewolf bar before.”

“
Your sexuality is safe
with me,” I assured him.

We ambled to the club, chatting idly. He was
wondering if dying his beard would make him less manly. “Too many
grey hairs, nowadays,” he said, stroking it. “I know lots of men do
it, but it doesn’t feel right to me.”

“
I need to dye my hair
soon,” I said, running my hands through my spiky mop. My natural
mousy blonde roots were starting to show. “I had it blue once, but
blue wolves look a bit weird.”

Lawrence was a head taller than me, just the
right height to examine my hair critically. “So when you
shapeshift, you keep whatever hair color you have, even if it’s not
natural? That’s awesome. I’d dye my hair some really crazy color if
I were you. We should go and get it done together. I’ll get my
beard done and you can go multicolored. Like a My Little Pony.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, that’s not really the
look I want.”

The inside of Silks was cool and dark,
mostly empty at this time of day. Soft music flowed through the
club, ambient chill-out stuff instead of the usual jazz. Posters on
the wall advertised the various house acts that played throughout
the week; a mix of pure jazz and cabaret. Apparently there was
going to be a burlesque show this weekend, which peaked my
interest. Silks mainly catered to werewolves, although humans were
welcome. A werewolf burlesque troupe might be worth seeing.

Lawrence and I propped up the bar, nursing a
couple of pints while we waited for Shannon. I was still explaining
the reasons why I didn’t want green and yellow hair when she joined
us, looking just as harried and fed-up as she’d sounded on the
phone.