Worlds Apart (13 page)

She stopped in front of him. “Mr.
Winslow.” Neutral voice.

He tipped his head.
“Sheriff.”

“Something I can do for
you?”

“I'm in town. Checking in, as
required.”

She waved him aside and unlocked
the door. “Magger's friends have disappeared. I sent that along in
a report to your superior.”

He followed her inside, waiting by
her desk as she snapped a finger to start a blaze in the hearth.
She turned to face him, her hands pushing into the pockets of her
coat. “What's your business this time?”

“Same case,” he said. “Your
portal's the site of a major breach, Sheriff. That means you have
citizens involved in it. I want to talk to them.”

“Do you have names?”

He shook his head. “You'll have to
help me here, Sheriff. Let's talk about your troublemakers. Tell me
about illegal activities you have to deal with. Who works for
whom?” He pulled out the visitor's chair and straddled it, gazing
up at her dismayed expression. “I want to know all about
Poentreville and the people who keep you busy.”

Her lips tightened as she returned
his stare. He could see her considering her options, nodding when
she realized she didn't have any. She slipped off her coat and
threw it on the rack. “We'll need coffee,” she said.

~~

The sun had moved enough to send
bright rays through the jail's upper windows. Clive blinked as the
light stabbed his eyes, blurring the documents shimmering above the
sheriff’s desk. He pushed his coffee away and sat back in his
chair. His stomach growled as he frowned up at the
sheriff.

“Interesting cast of characters in
your little village, Sheriff,”

“We're fairly isolated, with just
one domestic portal,” she said. “The forest is wild. It's the kind
of environment that attracts risk-takers. Some folks maybe step too
far out of line in their chosen ventures, but most of these people
are good ones.”

Clive grunted, his gaze shifting
back to the documents. “You have a lot of trappers.”

“You know there's an enclave in
the area, Mr. Winslow,” she said. Clive heard the admonishment in
her tone and his frown deepened. “Some werewolves make a game of
it, staying outside and daring the trappers to catch them. Sure,
the trappers are in it for the money, but I appreciate their
protection.”

Clive glared at her. “And some of
those werewolves are innocent people who couldn't get to the
enclave on time. Some of them are women and children, or newly
afflicted. They don't stand a chance.”

“That doesn't matter, Mr. Winslow.
A rogue werewolf is a danger to everyone, and you know it. If they
don't get themselves locked away before transformation, they have
to be eliminated before they hurt someone. It doesn't matter who
they are in human form. And this has nothing to do with your
investigation.”

“It does when it's a werewolf
crossing the portal into the Flatlands.”

“You're looking for a werewolf?”
The sheriff shook her head. “You're the only were who has been
around lately, I assure you.”

“You may think so, but there's no
doubt a werewolf went through that portal and returned. Possibly
more than once. But the fact that he's a werewolf is less important
than the fact that he's a criminal.” Clive pointed an angry finger
at the shimmering document. “And he's working with people in your
town. Magger was one. Two others have disappeared, three if you
count the nymph I talked to. Who knows them? Who else does business
with them?”

Nancy snorted. “With the nymph?
About half the men in town at one time or another. Magger and his
crew are hired thugs mostly.” She leaned past Clive and tapped the
desk twice. The document went away and was replaced by a small
hologram of a goblin whose jowly visage scowled at Clive as if he
could see him.

“That's Nottum Grimman,” Nancy
said. “He's not a pleasant person to deal with, but if you want
information, he's the one to go to.”

“Where do I find him?”

“He has an office on Bolger Way,
behind the tavern. But the last I heard, he's not in
town.”

Clive sighed. “So where is
he?”

Nancy shrugged. “He's got a cabin
in the forest. I can give you general directions, but hardly anyone
knows exactly where it is. Maybe we can find a pixie to
ask.”

A pixie,
Clive thought.
Just what I need.

~~

Damien whistled a Kaarmaneshian
tune as he used his foot to tease open the door of Tina's office.
She glanced up from her computer with a dazed expression. He let
the tune fade into a whistle of amazement at the mess on her desk.
“I didn't know there was that much paper in the world,” he
said.

She blinked, as if seeing the
papers for the first time. “It's at least Oregon's share,” she
said. Then she sniffed. “What do I smell? Did you
bring…?”

“Food.” He entered and turned to
place his burden on the credenza, brushing aside another pile of
paper to make room. “I left Sharon's on her desk. She was helping
Mrs. Blysdale into her car when I got here.”

Tina inhaled a deep breath and
pushed away from her desk. “Food. You're an angel of
mercy.”

Damien’s lips twitched in
amusement. “Can't let the town's most beautiful doctor go hungry.”
He pulled out two sandwiches, handing one to her. “I have an
obvious ulterior motive. I can sit here and eat with
you.”

She bit into the sandwich without
moving back to her desk, while he claimed the visitor's chair and
set a salad on top of her papers. He grinned back at her, making a
show of checking her out.

“Hmpf,” she said, returning to her
seat and ignoring his flirting. “You've certainly made yourself
useful since you showed up around here. I hope you know we
appreciate it.”

“No point skulking in my room all
day.” He lifted his sandwich, piled with half a pound of sliced,
roasted lamb. “You people are in a spot of trouble, and I may as
well help. I'm not doing all that much.”

“You'd be surprised. Running
errands and doing handy work makes a big difference. We need our
infrastructure to keep functioning or we won't be able to treat the
sick.”

He studied his dill pickle with
distaste, then placed it on her sandwich paper. “I hate these
things. It's all yours.”

He held up a finger and when she
looked at him, he cast a small holding spell to keep her attention.
She returned his stare, her chewing slowing. He touched her hand, a
soft stroke down one finger. “You're busy these days, but things
will calm down eventually.” He kept his voice soft and alluring.
“I'm thinking of sticking around a while. You wouldn't mind, would
you?”

She swallowed, her hand twitching
closer to his reach. He continued his stroking, watching as her
pupils dilated under the force of his spell. “Of course I wouldn't
mind,” she said. “It would be nice to have you stay.”

“We could get to know each other
better,” he said.

“Yes, I'd like that,” she said,
then blinked, breaking the spell, and looking down at her sandwich.
He lifted his hand from hers and sipped his coffee, holding his
frustration in check. He'd been trying for several days to bewitch
her, but she always broke away. He'd never met a human with that
ability, but he was confident he could break her down
soon.

“Actually,” she said, “you
shouldn't stick around on my account. If that's why you want to
stay—not that I'm not grateful for your help these days—but I'm
not...,” She flipped a hand, brushing him away.
“Available.”

He caught her gaze again. “Now,
I've asked around, Tina.” Her pupils widened again as she slipped
back into his spell. “Folks say you aren't involved with
anyone.”

“No,” she agreed, not looking
away. “But I'm pregnant. You won't be interested in me for
long.”

“Who says so?” He resumed stroking
her hand. “I already know you're pregnant. It's not a
problem.”

He felt a shock go through her and
she pulled away. “How do you know that? You're the second person
who's told me that without any way of knowing it.”

His shrug was honest. “The whole
town knows it, Tina. Even if you've only told one or two people,
the CDC people had to know, and they have no compunctions about
gossiping.”

“Oh, shit. I don't want people
worrying about me right now.”

“It's out of your hands.” He
smiled, trying to draw her back in. “Everyone wants to help you,
and so do I.”

She wasn't buying. “You just want
sex.”

His smile widened, and he covered
her hand with his in a gentle squeeze. “Of course I want sex. Why
pretend otherwise? But I'm interested in a lot more than that.” She
was caught again, this time gripping his hand as she stared at him.
He increased his effort to hold onto her, taking the risk that
she'd feel his Working, and would be suspicious of him. He had to
take the chance. She was too slippery. But he didn't want her
afraid of him. Not yet, anyway.

“Let's just take it a day a time,
okay? I'll stick around Green Roads. Get a job here. We'll be
friends. But you know I'd like to be more, whenever you're ready.”
Flame roared inside him as he gazed at her, but he stamped it down,
refusing to let it interfere with his spell. Later. Once he'd
learned how she'd conceived a werewolf's spawn, and stayed alive
through a full moon. Once he'd figured out how he could use
it.

Then he could ravage her for days.
Taste her terror, along with her blood.

Later.

He leaned toward her, the strength
of his spell swirling around them. She turned her head, her lips
close to his. “Now tell me,” he whispered, “who else knew you were
pregnant without being told?”

Chapter 16

Kasia dove behind a trash can, the
breeze from the energy beam ruffling her hair as she beat it by an
inch. The ground beside her exploded into spouts of gravel. She
peeked above the can, glaring into the corner of the
alley.

“You do know there are no points
for style, don't you?” she asked. “You don't get promoted faster if
you kill the boss.”

Her partner swung to sit at the
bottom of a fire escape, his wand dangling from loose fingers. Riff
Freeder's grin held no hint of remorse, but it did highlight the
dimple in his chin. “Forget to charge your shield,
Captain?”

Kasia once again wished she wasn't
his superior officer, but she ignored the wish and folded her arms.
“Didn't consider you enough of a threat, pipsqueak.”

His grin widened. “Told you I was
going to practice.”

“So you did. Think you're ready
for the field?”

“There's only so much to learn in
practice alleys. With full moon approaching, you know you could use
the help.”

“I heard from Clive this morning,”
she said. “He's still searching the wilderness around Poentreville.
He plans on using the northwest enclave so he won't have to come
back here for the Change.”

She jerked her head toward the
building behind her, and led Riff through the doorway. The empty
hallway spilled into a busy thoroughfare and Kasia ducked through
the scurrying crowd, continuing her conversation without checking
to make sure Riff was keeping up.

“I'm thinking of sending you to
help, unless he reports that it's a dead end.”

Riff's reply was interrupted as a
passing clerk spotted Kasia and waved. “Yo, Captain! Give a shout
to Anjili over in Research. She's been trying to find
you.”

Kasia waved a hand in
acknowledgment, turned toward her office and crooked a finger to
have Riff follow. “That will be about the ward Clive found in the
Flatland forest. Let's see what's up.” She tapped her desk twice.
“Research—
Sensa
Anjili.”

A blue shimmer flipped open like a
book hanging in midair. Moments later, the form of a female Elder
projected into the shimmer. Kasia bowed her head in respectful
acknowledgment of the thin, white hair and wrinkled skin, but
Anjili ignored the deference and got right to the point.

“That ward is a concealment spell,
Captain.”

Kasia waited a beat, expecting
more information. Then she sank into her chair, her stare focused
on Anjili's clouded blue eyes.

“What is being concealed,
Sensa
?”
I know
.
Oh, fuck-all-the-pixies, I know,
but can't make myself say it.

“Presence.” Anjili lifted a hand
to describe a graceful arc that brushed her own aura. Kasia felt
her eyes following that hand, her sense of time slowing the motion,
as if she dreamed.

“The ward is powerful,” Anjili
continued, “and highly specific. I cannot break it yet. But I am
sure of this, Captain: your werewolf is still in the Flatlands. And
you will not be able to find him through magical means, unless we
can break that ward.”

~~

Tina knew something was wrong as
soon as she rounded the last curve to Sebastian Ruth's house. The
lack of smoke from the chimney was a clue, but the cabin just
looked wrong.