Worlds Apart (6 page)

“Sure,” she said.

He was thoughtful as he entered
the tavern, but took a minute to look it over. The main room was a
bar and restaurant, ten tables of various sizes scattered around.
The bar was on the far side, well-stocked with bottles, stools
pulled up to the counter. Two Montarian elves sat at the bar, both
of them tall and graceful, both male. They didn't look up as he
came in, but the four men—all witches—playing chess at a corner
table, returned his gaze with their own curiosity. No one here had
been through the portal.

Clive made his way to the bar,
dropping his backpack at his feet. “I need a room, if you have
one.”

The barkeep tossed a ledger in
Clive's direction. “Sign in,” he said, turning to fish through the
keys in a cabinet behind him. “You can stay a couple of nights, if
you need to, but I'll want you on your way, then. No offense, sir.”
His eyes were wary as he faced Clive. “Just makes people nervous,
you know.”

“I expect to be on my way by
tomorrow. But just out of curiosity, has there been another
werewolf through here?”

The barkeep shook his head. “Not
in these parts. They're not encouraged and they've learned to stay
away, mostly.”

That
was the
truth.

Clive couldn't help feeling a
little down as he tossed his pack into the room a few minutes
later.
They're not encouraged.

Screw it,
he thought.
I've got work to do.
So he went back downstairs, took
another look around the bar, and headed outside into the
rain.

Poentreville was large as villages
went, and Clive continued through town toward the sheriff’s office.
He noted the nymph was no longer leaning against the tavern wall.
Had she found a client? Or gone to report his presence to her
boss?

He was required to report to the
sheriff whenever he entered a new area. The requirement was
professional, as one lawman to another. It was also a legality—all
werewolves had to report their presence and itinerary.

As he walked past an alleyway, he
spotted a movement to his side. He turned in time to see a goblin
in a green jacket disappear between two buildings. He caught a
glimpse of portal magic—this was one of his targets. The sheriff
would have to wait. Clive raced down the alley, reaching the
intersecction just a few seconds behind the goblin.

A whirling wind of fur, teeth, and
claws came at him from every direction. He couldn’t see anything
beyond a blur, but he put it at three goblins in a coordinated
attack. The smell alone made it nearly impossible to fight them.
And these goblins wore steel-toed boots that delivered hard kicks
to his stomach and groin, forcing him to his knees.

He managed to throw off one of his
attackers, hearing him land with a crunch against a wall. That left
two. He got an arm around one and clamped his teeth onto an ear.
The screech this produced made his own ears ring, but he held on
until the second goblin jabbed something into his neck. Keeping his
teeth clamped against a yell of pain, he dropped the goblin he held
to reach for the object. The part of the ear in his mouth separated
from the rest of the goblin, who ran off, green blood coating
Clive's jacket. He spat the ear out and swung the stick he'd pulled
from his neck, connecting with the stomach of the remaining goblin.
The body of the first one was not where it had fallen, Clive
noticed.
Damn,
he must have already run off. Clive got a
handful of the last goblin's neck in his fist, and jerked. He
wanted this one.

The obnoxious fellow had other
ideas. He jumped into a back flip, his boot connecting with Clive's
face on his way over. Clive fell back, blinded, letting the goblin
escape. He followed, still half-blinded, jumping over a pile of
boxes scattered in his path, and shoving away from a wall as he
swayed off-balance against it.

The goblin tripped, and with a
great lunge, Clive threw himself across the alley. He snatched onto
a wad of hair, pulling the goblin onto his back, and landed right
on top of the creature's face. He scrambled up before any teeth got
into him, flipped his captive over, and forced the goblin's hands
behind his back, muttering the charm that fastened handcuffs around
them.

The goblin's ear-splitting screech
was one continuous wail, and people were beginning to gather at the
end of the alley in clusters that lingered a moment before moving
out of sight. Clive ignored them.

He delivered a swift blow to the
goblin's head.

“Shut up!” The screech cut off,
and in the sudden silence, Clive leaned forward to shout in his
ear. “You have a lot to tell me, Mister. Start with who you
are.”

The answer was a growl. He moved
off the goblin and lifted him to his feet. “Fine. We'll continue
this at the sheriff's.”

If the goblin, whose head just
brushed Clive's waist, had plans to resist, he never had a chance.
Clive's quick steps forced him to run just to keep from being
dragged. Clive kept an arm tucked through the goblin's as they
emerged onto the street. People stayed back, but their stares were
wary. Their mutters reached him, causing him some concern they
would interfere. Someone had already called for the sheriff, and
Clive stopped as she strode down the sidewalk toward him with swift
and deliberate steps.

Her green slicker was open,
revealing long legs clad in blue jeans, and a white button-down
shirt that displayed her badge on her left breast. Her hair was a
damp blonde braid, and blue eyes snapped as she looked up the
single inch she needed to glare into his eyes. “Who the hell are
you, and what is going on here?” she demanded.

He removed the strap from his
wrist and flipped it in front of her face. “Clive Winslow. Portal
Enforcement. This goblin is wanted for questioning.”

She ignored the squirming goblin
as she took Clive’s strap and examined the ID it displayed. When
she tossed it back, her eyes were not any friendlier. “Bring him
in. You can use my office.” One hand shooed Clive on down the
street as she stepped around him to deal with the crowd. “It's
under control, folks. Be on your way.”

With a jerk on the goblin's arm,
Clive continued down the street. His captive was panting by the
time Clive threw him into a chair in front of the constable's desk,
snapping the handcuffs to a long chain pegged to the floor. He
pulled up another chair and straddled it, hands dangling over the
edge. Blood oozed from the puncture wound in his neck, itching
where it met his collar. He ignored it.

His voice was soft.
“Name?”

The goblin tightened his thick
green lips and shifted his eyes away to study the desk. Clive
lifted a hand, fingers spread in a claw-like shape. He growled
once, a low rumble in his chest.

The goblin's eyes snapped back to
Clive's face. He sneered, but licked his lips before he spoke. “I
don't have to tell you anything. Go ahead and put me
away.”

“Think you'll be safe in jail?”
Clive asked. “Because I don't. I think your boss will get to you
quite easily.”

“Yeah. To get me out.”

“That true? In how many
pieces?”

The goblin snorted, but his
eyelids flitted in nervous jerks as he gazed around the room. The
sheriff arrived and flung her slicker onto the coat rack by the
door. Hands on her hips, she surveyed her guests. Clive didn't
think she was happy to have either one of them in her
office.

The goblin decided to try the
hometown advantage. “You know I ain't done anything, Sheriff Nancy.
This guy's got no charge against me. Make him let me
go.”

Nancy pursed her lips in mild
amusement. “Sorry, Magger. He's Portal Enforcement. He can do
anything he wants.”

Clive wished that were true, but
he didn't bother to correct her. “So Maggot, why you don't you
start by telling me your business in the Flatlands.”

“That's
Magger
. And I was
just lookin' around.”

“
You didn't report to the Portal
Keeper.”

“Wasn't there that
long.”

Clive lunged from the chair,
ignoring Magger's screech as he pulled the stinking form toward
him. Magger's eyes bulged as the chain wrenched his arms behind
him. “I don't believe there's a time limit on that restriction,”
Clive said.

Magger moaned, his back arching to
relieve the pressure on his shoulders and wrists. “I just looked
around,” he said between gasps of pain. “Then I came back. I
swear.”

Clive threw him back in the chair.
“You do any honest work, Maggot?”

The goblin's eyes shifted to the
sheriff, who was sliding into her chair behind the desk. She
shrugged. “May as well tell him. It's easy enough to find
out.”

Magger glanced back at Clive, a
tic jerking his chin. Then a smile touched his puffy lips. His eyes
glinted cold and predatory. “I'm a trapper.” He leaned toward
Clive. “Good money in it, especially for the female hides. Tawny
fetches the best price.”

Werewolf hides.
Clive
stood, pulling out a handkerchief to hold against the blood oozing
from his neck, buying time to keep himself in control. Amid the
goblin's gloating hate and the sheriff's amused disdain, he felt a
strange moment of peace, flashing back to the brief moment of
waking that morning with Tina in his arms. He blinked the vision
away.

“I'm taking him in,” he told the
sheriff, tossing his strap onto her desk. “Put your verification
code in there, and hang on to him while I get my bag from the
inn.”

Magger screeched a protest at
these words, but Sheriff Nancy ignored him as she entered her code
and tossed the strap back to Clive. Her eyes fixed on his neck.
“Was there more than one of 'em?”

“Two others,” Clive said as he
headed for the door. “You find 'em, you arrest 'em and call me.” He
turned back just before he stepped into the street. “Oh, and your
portal's under indictment until further notice. See to
it.”

Chapter 6

Damien Fontaine slipped with
relaxed carelessness through the Oregon forest, unconcerned with
danger. He had no need to be cautious. What could hurt him
here?

He stopped when he reached a
trail, one big enough for vehicles to use. He sniffed the air. A
trace more caution settled over his shoulders as he took in both
directions of the road. Someone had used it today. He turned in the
direction of the road's upward climb into the forest. In that
direction was the Keeper's house, and who in this world had
business with the Keeper?

Damien shrugged, his backpack
shifting on his hips. Perhaps the Keeper had gone out for supplies.
He crossed the road, remaining cautious. Deep in the trees, he
again tested the air, turning in the direction of the portal. He
continued on, his steps still graceful, but his walk slower, senses
alert. There was more here than human flatness.

When a stray breeze brought an
unexpected scent, he fell into a crouch, a low growl in his throat.
He stared at the trees and waited, tasting the feel of the earth
around him. If he had been in wolf form, hackles would have risen
along his back.

Another werewolf.
He turned
his head toward the direction of the Keeper's house, following the
trail. The werewolf had reported to the Keeper. Why? The Keeper had
the right to kill a werewolf on sight. A generous Keeper would, at
the least, force him to return to Kaarmanesh. Even at the new moon,
werewolves were not allowed into the human world. It made no sense
to see the Keeper. Unless he was Portal Enforcement. But would P.E.
send a werewolf into the Flatlands to do their work?

Unable to make sense of the
situation, Damien stood, tense and alert. He continued toward the
portal, his steps as silent as padded paws. The scent of the other
werewolf grew stronger, but Damien could tell the man was no longer
in the Flatlands. The scent was fading. The other one had returned
to Kaarmanesh.

Would he be waiting on the other
side of the portal?

When Damien reached his cove and
the scent of the other male's mark hit him, he shouted in anger.
Who was this, to dare such a thing?
He circled the cove,
relieved to see the ward still held. Damien's lips curled. It would
take someone quite strong in magic to break that ward, and no
werepup working for P.E. would ever be capable of it.

He could have ignored the acrid
scent of the other male, but Damien thought it worth the few
minutes it took to kick mud on the trail of it, then cover it again
with his own mark. This was his cove. Not even Portal Enforcement
could gain entry.

Satisfied that his wards held,
Damien continued the few hundred feet to the portal, stopping in
the trees once it was in sight. He groaned.

The portal had been
indicted.

Its shimmer was reduced to a
slight ripple at each corner. He couldn't cross.

He couldn't stay here either, for
the Keeper would be around to check things. Damien stared at the
glassy portal, thinking hard. His smile crept back. There were
things he could do while he waited.