Dead and Kicking (7 page)

“What is he? You mean you don’t know?” Nash ran his hand through his hair. “No, of
course you don’t.” There was something
in his voice, more frustration than anger, but it wasn’t directed at me. He looked down at the paper in my hand. “Look, Tomas can wait. What else happened?”

“I made a deal with Salvador. He gave me the firehall.” I stared incredulously at the deed. “He
gave
me the firehall. It’s mine now. I own this building!”

“What? What do you mean?” Nash took the deed and looked it over. “What sort of deal?” He grabbed my arms again and gave me a
shake. “What did you promise him?”

“Hey!
Ouch!” I pushed him away. “Nothing, nothing! I just have to have dinner with him
tomorrow. That’s all.”

“And you let him touch you? You shook his hand?”

“I…” Feeling uncertain, I looked at
my hand again. “Yes, I shook his hand
and he,” I swallowed uncomfortably, “he kissed my wrist.” I put my hand down quickly. “Look, it’s no big deal.
So he might have taken a little sip. I’m fine.”

“No big deal?” He ran both hands through his hair. No wonder it always looked so tousled. “Don’t you know what he can do with that one
small taste?” At my puzzled look, he
stormed on. “He will use that little
taste to learn all he can about you.
It’s what he does, he’s a Reader.”

A Reader! No wonder Nash freaked out. Readers were rare. I had only ever read about them. With a drop of blood, or in this case a sip
of my life essence, Salvador would know what magical gifts I had and how
powerful they were or had the potential to be.
He would know everything about me that I tried to keep secret, including
some things I was trying to not admit even to myself. No wonder he was the Magister. Readers made great leaders because they were
able to recognize the talents of others and utilize everyone to their fullest
potential.

I tried to downplay the issue. “So he knows that I’m a witch. That’s no secret.”

“And your
other
talents?” Nash frowned at me. “What about those?”

“I really don’t know what you are
talking about.” At least I hoped I
didn’t, otherwise it meant someone,
Tess
,
had blabbed about my little ghost problem.

Nash laughed. “Your poker face sucks. I know about the ghosts. I know that’s how you found Bryce Chow’s body
and it’s probably why you were in his apartment yesterday afternoon. You don’t think that after your little stunt
last night I wouldn’t try and find out everything I could about you?”

“What I can or can’t do is none of
your business.”

“It is when it becomes part of my
murder investigation, and when it gets you in over your head and your safety
becomes my concern.”

“My safety is none of your
concern. You’re not my keeper. And, as far as your murder investigation
goes, I’ve told you everything I know.”

“What about everything Bryce knows?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to discuss Bryce with him. “He doesn’t remember anything about his
murder or about the video for that matter.”

Nash looked around the room as if
searching for something. “He’s not here
now is he?”

“Bryce? No.”

“And your
Grandmother?”

“Who told you about Gran?” As far as I knew, nobody knew about Gran
except for Holly and Tess. The fact
that your dead grandmother still haunted you seven years after her death wasn’t
exactly something you wanted to get around. It hurt to think that Tess had
shared my secret.

Tess chose that moment to arrive
home. She was winded like she had run
the whole way from work.

“Harry! You’re okay!
That’s a relief.” She dropped her
gym bag inside the doorway and then ran to give me a hug. “I was so worried when I got your text and I
couldn’t get away from the class I was teaching. That’s why I called Nash.”

I stiffened in her arms. “Yeah, you seem to have no problem blabbing
everything about me to him.”

“What?! I…Harry!” Ignoring Tess completely, I brushed past Nash
and hurried upstairs to my room.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me
into coming here tonight.” I frowned at
Holly. At her insistence I was keeping
my meeting with the Triad even though I was in no mood for werewolf politics. We stood outside The Lodge, the pack’s
meeting place, a.k.a. party headquarters.
Even growing up in an isolated community outside of the city, we had
heard about The Lodge and the infamous parties that occurred there. Werewolves were notorious party animals, pun
intended.

Tess stood quietly on the other side
of Holly. We hadn’t spoken since my
little outburst and I was really in no mood to party even if I was dressed for
it in a cute little Sherri Hill dress.
Looking at The Lodge, I began to think the whole night would be a
bust. It certainly didn’t look anything
like I expected pack party central to look like. It was a dive bar and we were seriously
over-dressed.

Located out near the airport in an
industrial park, The Lodge appeared to be housed in an old country roadhouse,
complete with wooden shingle siding and a decaying wood-spoke wagon wheel hanging
forlornly on the wall. It was wedged
between two other apparently vacant buildings.

“Are you sure we’re at the right
place?” I looked at Holly who shrugged.
I wasn’t expecting a big neon sign proclaiming “PARTY HERE” or anything,
but I hadn’t been expecting a derelict building either. There weren’t even any vehicles parked nearby
and despite the empty street, Holly had made us park around the corner. For all intents and purposes, it looked like
an abandoned building.

Tess pushed forward, striding towards
the entrance. “Not everything is what is
seems you know,” she muttered.

With a shrug, Holly followed
her. I didn’t really want to be left
standing alone in that neighbourhood, so I hustled in on Holly’s heels.

The inside pretty much matched the outside
in terms of décor, the tacky western saloon theme unfortunately continued,
although it appeared to be a great deal cleaner and the lighting wasn’t as dim
as I expected. Despite its dated theme,
you could tell that someone put an effort into maintaining the place, the
wooden bar gleaming with polish. Maybe
Tess was right, there was more to this place than what it seemed.

There were several booths hugging the
perimeter of the room but the main seating was either at the bar itself or at
one of the checkered-cloth tables, scattered in no discernable pattern across
the space. The room was about half full
and the low buzz of conversation came to a halt when Holly and I walked in the
door.

I scanned the room. The faces didn’t look threatening, but they didn’t
look all that friendly either. One in
particular stared back at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Nash was
stalking me; although I guess technically, he had arrived first this time. He grumbled something and an attractive woman
behind the bar swatted him on the arm.
Someone called out, “Hey look, fresh meat,” and
his buddies guffawed along with him.

Holly, always happy to be the centre
of attention, and how could she not be when wearing a leopard print halter top and
a very short leather mini skirt, beamed and pranced up to the bar, “That’s
right boys, look out.” She winked at a
grizzled old man in a worn jean jacket sitting near the bar.

Tess rolled her eyes at me and I
laughed, forgetting for a moment I was still supposed to be mad at her. She nodded to the woman drying glasses behind
the bar. The tall brunette nodded back
and said, “You’re late.” This seemed to
be the cue to the rest of the room that we were accepted, because the tension
eased and the buzz of conversation started up again.

“I’m sorry,” Holly said, climbing onto
a bar stool, “totally my fault. I
couldn’t decide what to wear.” She held
out her hand, “I’m Holly.”

The striking woman behind the bar
smiled and shook Holly’s hand. “Eileen,
Eileen Nash.”

Surprised, I looked over to the where
Nash sat at the opposite end of the bar.
He was married? I wasn’t sure why
that bit of information should bother me, but it did.

Just then, another slightly older,
attractive brunette came out through the swinging saloon doors behind the bar,
carrying a steaming bowl in each hand. A
delicious scent followed her as she weaved her way through the tables and set
the bowls down in front of an older couple, reminding me that I hadn’t really
eaten much that evening. She wiped her
hands on her apron and said, “Eat up. More where that came from,” and then
headed back towards the bar.

Eileen flagged her down and gestured
to Holly. “Holly, this is my sister
Christina. Christina, this is Holly
and,” she paused, looking at me.

“Harry. Harry Russo,” I sputtered.

“Harry,” Eileen smiled like I had
said something amusing, “and of course, you remember Tess.”

“Tess! About time you came to visit. It’s been ages.” Christina pulled Tess into a quick hug. Tess smiled sheepishly at her and
shrugged. Smiling, Christina turned her
attention to Holly and me. The
resemblance to her younger sister, despite the age difference, was
uncanny. “Holly,” she nodded at Holly
then turned to look at me appraisingly, “and Harry, a pleasure to finally meet
you. My brother can’t stop talking about
you.”

“Your brother?” I stole another look
towards the end of the bar where Nash sat scowling into his beer. “I’m sure whatever he had to say was less
than flattering.” The sisters laughed and
my stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

“Gracious!” Christina put a hand to
her cheek in mock surprise. “You sound
as hungry as a wolf.” She laughed at her
own joke, then squeezed my hand. “Let’s get you some stew. It’s the house specialty. Don’t want you drinking on an empty
stomach.” She turned and then
disappeared through the tacky saloon doors.

“Speaking of drinking,” Eileen pulled
out a cloth and polished the already spotless bar in front of us, “what can I
get you?”

We all settled on beers which Eileen
expertly poured from the tap and placed in front of us. As was usual any time we went out with Holly,
it wasn’t long before she had gathered a little following of men around us. She was in her element, laughing and
flirting, setting everyone at ease with her light banter.

When a cute blonde extended his hand
and introduced himself to me as Joe, I couldn’t help
but notice the dark scowl on Nash’s face.
He had been watching us, looking stormier by the minute. I was sure he thought I shouldn’t be there at
all, seeing as how he seemed to believe that I was incapable of looking after
myself. I began to take perverse
pleasure in flirting with Joe, my hand resting on his arm after he made a
particular witty remark, just to see Nash’s face get darker.

During a lull in conversation, I
looked around the bar. Something about the
place was odd. Despite the fact that I’d
noticed several more groups of people arrive since we sat down, the room never
seemed to get any more crowded.

I said as much to Joe who laughed and
replied, “Since it’s your first time here, I guess you’ve never heard of the
Ice House?”

“The what?”

“The Ice House. That’s where the real fun
happens. The bar here is just the front,
where the oldsters hang out and where you get some of Christina’s famous
stew. But the real party is just getting
started out back.” He gestured to the
back of the room to a door I hadn’t noticed before. Werewolves were going through it in packs of
two or three under the watchful eye of one of the biggest men I had ever
seen. He was built like a tank, and now
that I was paying attention, obviously acting as some sort of bouncer.

Joe leaned in close and ran his hand
up my bare arm. “Do you like to dance?”
he asked, his mouth close to my ear.

Before I could reply, there was a
loud crash as Nash pushed himself away from the bar. His fallen stool had narrowly missed tripping
Christina, who was just walking past with three bowls of hot stew balanced
precariously.

Nash growled something then grabbed
one of the bowls from Christina. He
strode across the bar and the crowd around us parted. He clunked the bowl down in front of me and
gruffly said, “Eat.” Christina paused
for a moment with a look of surprise on her face then set the other two bowls down
in front of Tess and Holly.

“Mmmmm, smells delicious,”
Holly exclaimed.

Tess frowned, looking from the bowl
in front of me to Nash and back again.
She started to say something, but the look on Nash’s face made her bite
her lip and quickly look away.

“Oh for Pete’s
sake!”
I had no clue what was going on, but the stew smelled delicious and I
was starving. I picked up my spoon and
dug in. Nash stomped away and the crowd,
which a moment ago had seemed to be collectively holding their breath, resumed
its activity.

***

The arrival of our food provided the
cue to disperse Holly’s admirers. Even
Joe had melted away with the crowd.

“Oooo, did
you see that hot guy with the beard?”
Holly was talking a mile-a-minute and had barely touched her stew. “I can’t wait to check out
his
moves.”
She gave me a little nudge and a wink. “And what about that Joe? He’s a hottie. I bet he can shake it on the dance floor.”

On the other side of Holly, Tess
muttered something that sounded like ‘ten-foot pole’.

“What?” Holly turned on her stool to look at Tess.

“Nothing.” Tess slid down from her
seat. “I’m going to run to the Ladies’
while you finish up.”

Something was definitely up with
Tess. If I wasn’t already angry with her, I probably would have
been worried and tried to find out what was wrong, but I was angry, so I
didn’t.

Holly on the other hand, shot me an
exasperated look and hopped off her stool to follow Tess. “Tess, wait up. I’ll come with you.” She shot another glare my way and then
hurried off after a quickly retreating Tess.

“Good friends. They are a treasure.”

The unfamiliar voice startled me and
I turned to find a new face behind the bar, new, but somehow familiar. I looked around but neither Christina nor
Eileen were anywhere to be seen. In fact,
the area around us was suddenly deserted.

“I…yes, they are. I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The older woman laughed, her green
eyes crinkling up at the corners. “We’ve
met, but you were very young. I don’t
think you would remember.” She extended
her hand. “I’m Eleanor Nash. I knew your grandmother.”

Another Nash! Now that she said it, I could see the family
resemblance. Both Eileen and Christina
had their mother’s elegant beauty. And those
green eyes - I could see where her son had gotten his.

“You knew Gran?”

“Yes, we were friends for many
years.” A look of sadness passed over
her features. “I was very sorry to hear
of her death,” she raised an eyebrow and looked at me, “if not her passing.”

I frowned, thinking of Tess and the
secrets she had betrayed.

“Now, don’t be too hard on young
Tess.” Her thoughts following mine,
Eleanor reached out and squeezed my hand.
“There isn’t much a young wolf can keep from her elders.” I felt a wave
of power flow from her hand and the spidey-sense that
allowed me to know such things started clanging loudly. Eleanor Nash was an extremely powerful
werewolf. If she wasn’t the pack’s
alpha, she was probably the next thing to it.

Anger made me reckless, despite the
show of power I just witnessed, and I replied, “So you made Tess spy on me?”

“Spy? Nonsense. I prefer to think of it as helping me keep a
promise to your grandmother.” She patted
my hand again and I pulled it away warily. “Your grandmother and I grew up
together much like you and Tess.”

I snorted. Gran was over ninety when she died, that
would make Eleanor much older than she appeared. Frowning, I looked at her more closely. Sure her hair was streaked with grey and she
had the wrinkles time brought with middle age, but ninety?

Eleanor laughed, her smile making her
appear even younger. “It’s not polite to
ask a lady her age, but surely you know we wolves are long-lived?”

Determined not to be distracted from
my anger, I huffed, “That doesn’t give you the right to meddle in other
people’s lives. Why did Tess come to
live with Gran and me? Was it so she
could be your spy one day?” The more I
thought about it, the more incensed I became.

“I’ve already told you, Tess is not
my spy.” Eleanor’s eyes became steely,
but I was no wolf; I didn’t have to bow in subordination to her alpha. “Like you, Tess was an orphan; she needed a
loving home. Yes, she could have been
raised within the pack, but your grandmother was my friend and she was already
raising another young girl. When she
offered to take Tess out of friendship, I accepted.” She fixed me with a knowing stare. “Would you rather I had not?”

“What?! No, of course not. Tess is my friend, more than my friend. She’s my sister.” I felt worse by the minute, thinking about
how I had treated Tess earlier. I turned
my anger outward to the real source of the recent trouble between Tess and me
and glared at Eleanor. Damn wolf
politics. Tess was no match for
Eleanor’s alpha wolf status. She would
have had no choice but to answer any questions Eleanor asked about me. “Why do you even care about me anyway? You, the Magister…suddenly
I’m Miss Popularity.”