Forbidden (21 page)

“The back of the roof of Marilyn's clinic has been leaking for a while. The shingles need work and winter's coming. I don't know how to tar roofs, but Alek does. And Polar Pops is crawling with spiders because of all the boxes everyone has stored in the basement. We could clean it all out for her and get rid of them before the cold sets in. I couldn't do it alone and you know Skew wouldn't even think about it.”

The mayor pursed his lips, considering. Rachel continued. “It might mean a few regular, everyday things would have to wait a day or two, but sweeping isn't nearly as important as water damage and bugs in a restaurant.” She ducked her head. “If you agree, of course.”

The chief interjected. “The lumberyard
is
on the way back from the grocery wholesaler in Spokane. It wouldn't take much to throw some bug bombs and a few bales of shingles in the back. I think I still have a box of roofing nails in the storage shed, but we might need some roof tar. The stuff we have is probably dried up.”

The mayor nodded. “Marilyn has been a trooper about the ceiling. It's past time for it to be fixed. Good suggestion, Rachel. I'll call David before he leaves. You get started. The supplies will be at the grocery. Ms. Sanchez, I know you are expected at the school at ten. As soon as you're done, you'll join the others at the grocery.” He clapped his hands sharply, making Claire jump. “That's it, then. Get moving. Daylight's burning.”
Bastard.
She risked a glance back as they turned to leave. The chief didn't turn around or give any sign that he'd perceived her thought. Either he didn't hear or didn't care what she thought of him.

Not wanting to push things and risk more abuse, Claire followed Rachel out of the office. The other woman pulled Claire into the light of the overhead lamp near the door and turned her face, peering at it closely. “Not too bad. Your head's almost healed, so hitting the floor didn't open any stitches. It doesn't look like your nose is broken. Are any of your teeth loose?”

Claire honestly hadn't thought about that. Using her tongue, she gingerly felt around her mouth. One lower molar wiggled a little, sending sparks of pain through her head. “Yeah. One. Right lower. I'll have to be careful eating for a few hours.”

“
Hours?
” Rachel let out a snort. “Days, more like. You're omega now. Healing went out the window with your magic. Think back to falling off your bike when you were little, in Kansas, and how long the scrapes lasted. Then double it.”

Crap. She was right. No magic, no advanced healing. She didn't feel all that different, but the day was young. “Okay. I get it. Keep my mouth shut and my head down. What do we do first?”

Now the other woman grinned, her white teeth bright in the fading lamplight as they walked. “First are the places we get to
avoid.
Say thank you for that gift.”

Claire had had a feeling there was a method to the madness of suggesting more work. “What joys are we missing out on?” She managed to grin when she said it.

“Well, at least temporarily. Devon Jones is off the list. He's scum. I wouldn't do that to you on your second day.”

That sounded ominous. “What sort of scum? He doesn't hurt you, does he?”

Rachel shook her head. Actually, her whole body shuddered. “Nope. Let it go until there's no choice. We're also skipping old lady Morgan. She's evil incarnate. Would work you to death with a smile on her face and then take the whip to you because you had the audacity to die before you had finished.”

“Oh joy. She sounds like fun. How do you manage people like that?”

They reached the edge of a small group of houses. Rachel stopped and set down the large black duffel bag that had been slung across her back. “Aprons and masks on.”

“Masks? Aprons?” She reached out to take what Rachel handed her. It was a full-face owl mask made of nylon netting, covered with snowy bird feathers. The apron was the same. “What the hell is this about? You're already an owl. Why dress up like one? What do we do here?”

“These are the Kragan triplets. They're elderly owls—two brothers and a sister, all in separate houses. Their sight is nearly gone and they're a little … paranoid. We need to clean their houses but they're scared of all humans and most other Sazi. So I wear an owl mask because I can't shift off the moon … and I can't run the vacuum with wings. This way, I reduce the risk that any of the Kragans will have a stroke or a heart attack from being afraid.” She smiled again. “Not all the duties of the Omega are horrible. The people? Some are wonderful, most are just people, with good days and bad. Some are creeps. Like anywhere.” She dropped the mask over her face. The moon lit up the white feathers.

“Brown eyes in an owl. Looks weird.” Claire chuckled, putting on her own mask and feathered apron.

A raspberry from behind Rachel's mask sounded like a whoopee cushion. “Not as weird as blue eyes.” They stepped onto the first porch. An overwhelming smell of bird clung to the wood. It wasn't an unpleasant scent, not like the ammonia odor of feces. Claire had heard that raptor shifters tended to smell more “bird-y” as they got older.

“Follow my lead. Use any owl customs you still remember.” Rachel used her fingernails like talons to claw at the wooden planks in front of the door, then let out a few low hoots. Claire was a little surprised when a woman inside yelled out in French-accented English. The way Rachel had been talking, she'd expected to have to dust off her memories of owl speech.

“Who es out there? I am armed and I have silver bullets.”

“It's Rachel, Bitty. I have a friend with me today. Claire. Say hello, Claire.” Rachel flexed her fingers above the wood, looking at Claire, who realized Rachel wanted her to scratch as well. Claire's nails weren't as long as Rachel's, so she was probably going to wind up digging splinters out from under her nails, but she scratched as best she could, then made friendly clicking noises. Her accent was probably more barn owl than snowy, but Bitty responded with small, happy screeching.

“Well, come in, you two. Come say hello to an old lady.”

Rachel opened the door carefully, pushing Claire back against the doorjamb. Claire soon saw why, as there was a double-barreled shotgun pointed right where they had been standing. “You can put down the gun, Bitty. Just us owls here.”

The woman on the couch peered at them through watery yellow eyes, her white hair looking like so many feathers, but sparse and showing pale skin between the strands. Apparently, she liked what she saw. The shotgun was lowered and tucked under the couch, still within easy reach. Rachel pulled Claire forward and closed the door behind them. The woman wrinkled her nose and waved a hand in front of her face. “You two need to use better soap before you come see me. One of you smells like you've been walking around with wolves.” She made a hissing noise. “Filthy things, wolves. Not as bad as cats. But I don't have to tell you two about those hateful things.”

Claire winced and glanced at Rachel, who shrugged. Apparently, she was used to the old woman's prejudices. Rachel dropped to her knees and scooted over to the woman, tucking in the apron around her legs. “What would you like us to do for you today, Bitty?”

The woman reached up and petted the feathers on the mask. “Such a respectful young owl you are, Rachel. You'll make some man a fine mate.”

“Thank you, Bitty.” She touched the old woman's face in return and smiled warmly. She smelled like she meant the thank you, which surprised Claire a bit. She'd never asked Rachel about her plans for the future. Maybe being a good wife would make her happy, as it did several people in Claire's pack. Being a wife and mother wasn't something to be ashamed of in her pack, but neither was being a career woman … or both.

She was careful not to meet the old owl's eyes. She might look blind but she had focused full attention in those few short moments. Claire had a suspicion she wasn't as frail as she made people believe. “I'd be happy to do the dishes. There are a few in the sink.” Claire knew they were on a schedule and since she was the one who was supposed to be working, there was no reason why Rachel couldn't sit and keep the older woman company. Plus, Claire was starting to sweat under the mask. The house was boiling. Usually owls liked it cold, especially snowy owls, but this one had the heat set to uncomfortable.

“Did I ever tell you about how my brothers and I moved to New Orleans in a covered wagon?”

“No, Bitty. Tell me.” Rachel's voice sounded eager and interested, but the wave of deceit that wafted out of her nearly made Claire sneeze. If Bitty smelled it, she didn't say anything. She just started talking.

Nearly a half hour later, the story was done and Claire was just drying the last dish. “So, tell me, how are those two little owls? I hear they're back in the nest. Hiding in the woods, were they?”

Claire stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a green-and-orange-striped kitchen towel. “Where did you hear that, Miss Kragan?” She didn't feel comfortable using the woman's first name until invited.

“Oh, heavens, where
did
I hear that? I don't get that many visitors.” She peered at Rachel. “Did you tell me, little one?” Rachel shook her head. “Well, then it must have been one of my brothers.” She raised a hand. “Yes! That was it. Egan told me. I don't know where he heard it, though. But they're safe and sound?”

Rachel shook her head. “He must have heard wrong. We haven't found them yet.”

The old woman's face fell. “Oh, my. I'm so sorry for their mother. I don't like her very well—she's far too pushy for my taste—but to lose your little ones … Dear, dear.” She clucked her tongue. “You've already searched the caves at the bottom of the canyon, I'm sure. Some of them are easy to get in, but rather tricky to get out of. Children are not terribly clever about getting out of trouble … at least not as easily as getting into trouble.” She chuckled at her own joke. “When we moved here, I explored them at length, but could only fly out of a few.”

That grabbed Claire's attention. “Someone mentioned they might have seen Kristy at the bottom of the canyon yesterday. But I don't think they found her … or at least nobody mentioned it to me.”

Bitty turned her upper body so that she was facing Claire, looking across the back of the couch. The old woman peered closely at her new visitor. After more than an hour of cleaning in the heat, wearing a mask, she was dripping enough sweat that there was probably a puddle on the floor. She hoped she didn't smell too
wolf
for the old owl. If she noticed, Bitty was too polite to mention the scent. “I seem to remember that someone made maps of the whole canyon before the town was set up. We had to protect the routes to the camp from snakes, and serpents love canyons to hide and travel in. I'm sure the maps are in the town offices somewhere.” She shrugged, then turned back to face Rachel. “But as I say, surely those searching have already checked.”

Or maybe they hadn't—nobody yesterday had mentioned checking the canyon previously when Patrick and Asylin had arrived back from the search. It seemed it hadn't occurred to anyone, which was strange in itself.

It was another twenty minutes before they could pry themselves away from the elderly owl's home and Claire had never been so glad to get out into the fresh air. They waited until they were at the end of the lane before they ducked behind a stand of bushes and peeled off the aprons and masks. Claire sucked in a huge gulp of cool breeze, letting it wash over her soaked skin and clothes. “How do you stand having feathers on the moon? Good lord, I was baking in there!”

Rachel chuckled. “Feathers cool as well as warm when you know how to use them. The problem with the apron and mask is you can't fluff them, so they hold in the heat.” She waggled her head as she carefully folded the apron to tuck it back in the duffel bag. “Actually, it's sort of both. We fluff to keep in heat too. It's sort of like when you wolves shake after coming out of the water. You're fluffing your coat to cool off.” Opening a zippered pouch on the side of the bag, she pulled out an old-fashioned pocket watch, then let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I figured we were running late. She was really on a roll today with the stories. It's nearly eight. We're going to have to move to get everything done and get you back to the school by ten.”

She turned away and expected Claire to follow. But Claire had turned to the other two houses tucked back behind Bitty's. “What about the brothers? Don't we do anything for them?”

Throwing the duffel over her shoulders, Rachel shook her head. “Not now. They're still sleeping. They're night owls—Egan doesn't go to bed until around five a.m. and Claude is probably still up. He'll drop off around nine and then sleep until just before dark. We'll stop by right at sunset for both of them.”

“Is this what you do every day? Go around and take care of people from before dawn to after dark?”

With a rueful expression, Rachel said, “It's a living … of a sort. Part of being the Omega sucks. It's hard, dirty work. But the rewards are cool when the chief is feeling nice. My room and board are free. I eat for free anywhere in town. People can give me gifts if they choose … I get clothes and gift certificates for stores and other stuff. The Omega is taken care of by the pack in exchange for service.”

Claire couldn't help but notice the caveat—
if the chief is feeling nice
. “And if the chief
isn't
feeling nice?”

The dark-skinned woman paused and then stared strongly at Claire, willing her to understand without actually saying the words out loud. “He was feeling nice today.”

Oh, crap.

She closed her eyes, realizing that the next thirty days were going to be rougher than she'd originally thought. “Is anything off-limits?”