Howling Moon (30 page)

Raphael shook his
head. He’d been staring out the newly repaired window of his pack office, watching the world go by. If he lived to be as old as the chief justice he would
never
understand human nature. Tatya was a prime example. She was proud, stubborn, and frequently difficult – but when he’d stopped by the restaurant this morning for coffee she’d actually seemed to be
enjoying
working at Jake’s. Of course, this was only the first day. The novelty would no doubt wear thin in a few weeks.

Then, of course, there was Cat’s Aunt Violet. The movers had still been loading up furniture when Cat’s cell phone had rung. It was Violet, and Ned, calling to make sure that the movers had arrived and to have Cat “witness” their wedding at the Little White Wedding Chapel in Vegas – with Elvis and Celine Dion impersonators there to sign the license as witnesses. At the end of the five-minute ceremony Elvis and Celine had, as a wedding present for the happy couple, serenaded Cat with a spirited (and off-key) rendition of “Happy Birthday” in honor of her upcoming birthday.

Raphael grinned at the memory. The incident had been completely bizarre. But, oddly, it had been the perfect antidote to Jasmine’s bitchiness so that everyone in the house had spent the rest of the afternoon snickering at the odd moment. Even Holly had cheered up a little.

The grin faded abruptly. The rift between Holly and the rest of the family was a painful problem. He wished there was something he could do. There just wasn’t. Given time, things might settle down. But none of Jake’s older girls were known for their patience. They’d try to force the issue, and make things worse in the process.

A knock on the office door distracted him from his musings. “Come on in.”

Peter appeared in the doorway. He kept his head down, his posture submissive. Raphael looked at the boy carefully. He still didn’t look entirely
well.
Then again, he’d taken a fair beating along with a pair of venomous snakebites. Had it not been for Betty, he’d probably be dead, despite his own healing abilities.

“Good morning, Peter. What can I do for you?”

“I have a problem, Alpha.” Peter spoke so softly it was difficult for Raphael to hear.

“Come in, have a seat. We’ll talk about it.” Raphael walked over to the desk, taking his seat. Peter pulled the door closed behind him. He almost collapsed into the chair across from Raphael.

“So, what’s this problem, and what can I do to help?” Raphael asked the question, even though he was fairly certain he knew the answer. Martin’s deadline for leaving town was fast approaching, and it left Peter with a very difficult decision to make.

Peter looked up for the first time, his eyes wide with the same surprise that rose off of him in a mist.

Raphael gave a rueful grin. “Despite my reputation to the contrary, I’m not a
total
asshole.”

Peter gave a very weak version of his usual stunning smile. “It’s my dad,” he sighed. “After the other night, we got into a big fight. He told me I had to choose, that I couldn’t be ‘your man’ and ‘his son.’”

Raphael sighed. He had expected it, but it was still hard to hear. “I’m sorry, Peter. You shouldn’t be forced to make those kinds of choices.”

“It’s not your fault.” The boy answered sadly. “It’s my dad. He’s always been this way. I love him, but – “

“But you don’t agree with him.”

“No.” He raised his chin defiantly, his jaw set in a stubborn line. When he spoke, his voice was firm. “No, I don’t. So I left. He threw all my stuff out at the curb in the mud.”

He shook his head, both weary and angry. There wasn’t anything to say. It was a petty, vindictive thing to do, and completely in character for Martin Black.

“The thing is, I don’t have anywhere to stay. I’d go to the Santiagos’, but with Mike gone… I don’t have a job. I don’t have a place. Most of my stuff is trashed.” Hopelessness rose from Peter’s skin in a slow mist.

“All right. This is what we’re going to do,” Raphael began, his tone businesslike. He reached into the desk drawer and retrieved a pen and notepad. With sure strokes he scrawled a note to Eddie Malone. Tearing the sheet from the pad, he folded it in half and handed it across the desk to Peter. “Take this to the towing company. I’m short a dispatcher for the next few months. You can fill in. If you work out, we’ll move you into another position once Mona gets back from her maternity leave.” Raphael pulled his checkbook from the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m going to give you an advance on your salary, so mat you can get yourself a room at one of the extended-stay hotels and replace some of your stuff. You can pay me back over time.”

Peter took the check Raphael extended, his eyes widening when he saw the amount.

“You’ll be paying it back. Remember.”

“Yes,
sir.”
Pete nodded firmly, his jaw setting stubbornly. “I will.”

“Now get out of here, and get to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

Raphael waited until Peter had his hand on the doorknob before speaking again. “Pete.”

“Yes, Alpha?”

“I appreciate your support.”

Peter paused, obviously searching for the right words. When he spoke, they were carefully chosen. “When I realized I was alphic, and going to be powerful, I started watching – you, Lucas, my dad. You can be hard, and really tough on people, but you’ve always been fair. You’ve never just picked on somebody weaker because you could. Neither has Mr. Santiago. And I decided
that’s
the kind of Alpha I want to be.”

He ducked through the door before Raphael could respond. Just as well, because he was actually speechless. Over the years he’d tried to do his absolute best by the pack and its members, but his efforts were more often than not greeted with anger and resentment. Hearing Peter say what he had meant more to Raphael than even he would’ve expected.

Unfortunately, Peter appeared to be in the minority. Raphael ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. Jasmine’s words yesterday had hurt him badly. Honesty compelled him to admit that he wouldn’t have been nearly so bothered if, in his heart, he didn’t believe it was true. Despite her best efforts, Cat
wasn’t
fitting in and it was obvious that most of the wolves had no intention of accepting her on any terms.

Raphael slammed his hands palm down on the desktop. If he sat here, in this office, he was just going to brood about things he had no control over. He needed a break! Raphael reached for the intercom button. “Sally, I’m going to the pistol range. If anybody needs me urgently, they can reach me on my cell phone.”

Betty appeared at the door while he was retrieving three of his guns from the hidden safe in his office. Her attire was completely businesslike, with crisp navy blue wool dress slacks and a cobalt blue silk blouse with a high, scarflike neck. Her expression ruined the effect. She seemed hopeful, and more than a little nervous. “Sally told me that you were going shooting?” The lilt in her voice made it a question. While she kept her eyes downcast as was proper, he could scent her eagerness and frustration before both scents were whisked into the ventilation system.

“Yes.” He gave her a rueful grin. “I’m supposed to compete with Ivan and Raven at the range a couple of days from now, and unless I get some practice in, they’ll clean my clock.”

“Is there any chance you’d let me tag along?” Betty asked. “You did promise me a day at the range if we survived Cat’s first change.”

Raphael had forgotten all about that. Even if he’d remembered, he wouldn’t have expected her to take him up on the offer. The two of them had worked together smoothly for years, but the relationship had never been close enough to qualify as a friendship. Still, there was no mistaking her earnestness now.

“I don’t see why not. Do you need to borrow a weapon, or do you have one of your own?”

“Mine’s at the house.” She stepped into the office, walking across the room to where he stood. She stared admiringly at the safe. “I never even knew this was here.” She shook her head. “I mean, I figured it was likely, I know Lucas had one built into his office, but I couldn’t figure out where you’d put it in this room. Very nice.” She stepped closer, until she could see the contents. “Oh, my! I think there may be developing countries with smaller arsenals.”

Raphael laughed. “It’s not that bad!”

Betty arched an eyebrow. “It looks like something out of a Bond movie.” She shook her head. “I’m not even sure I
want
to know what some of these are.”

Raphael grinned, but didn’t enlighten her. There
were
some nice weapons tucked away here. Most were from his days as an agent, and while he probably
should
have turned them over to Fiona when he’d “retired,” nobody had asked him to, and he hadn’t volunteered. Each piece – from the matching silver boot knives, to the sniper rifle and antique “Tommy” gun he’d inherited from his father – was in perfect working condition. There was a shelf with stacks of regular and silver ammunition as well, neatly divided by make and model. There was even a grenade launcher.

“A little something for every occasion,” Raphael joked.

“And such
interesting
occasions, no doubt.”

“Let’s see, what would be the best fit for you?” Raphael glanced at her hands. They were surprisingly small for a woman her size, blunt fingered, with short, neatly trimmed nails. He debated with himself, trying to figure which of his guns would best fit her grip. She was strong enough that he didn’t need to worry about kick or caliber.

He finally decided on the Browning. He took it and the holster down from its perch on the wall and handed it over to Betty. His eyes strayed back to the boot knives. He’d worn them every day of his life as a Wolven agent and for most of the first months thereafter. He vividly remembered hanging them up. It had felt as if a part of him died. But it was overkill to go armed in a pack where nothing ever happened that couldn’t be handled by mere teeth and claws, and it made the lesser pack members nervous.

Raphael ran his finger over the nearest sheath, pulling it down from the wall to slide out the blade, checking the edge, checking for tarnish. The scent of burning flesh filled the enclosed space.

“You still miss it, don’t you?” Betty spoke softly, as though she were almost afraid of how he’d react.

“Miss what?” Raphael looked over at her, his expression deliberately bland.

“The excitement, the
challenge.
It’s not much of a life for you here. The pack practically runs itself most of the time.”

“Not so much lately,” Raphael answered dryly.

“No.” She agreed, giving him a sad smile. “But that’s a different kind of challenge. Don’t take this wrong, Raphael, but you’re not exactly a born administrator.”

His bark of laughter was more than a little harsh. Leave it to the good shrink to tell him an unpalatable truth. “Shows, does it?”

“Not most of the time. You hide it well, and you work hard at it, and do well enough that nobody really notices.” She set a gentle hand on his right arm. “But you were forced to settle down; forced to come back here. It wasn’t your choice. It’s only reasonable that you’d have a certain level of resentment.”

Raphael gave her a cold, hard look. “Is there a point to this, Doctor?”

“Just that I’m glad you’re back.”

Cat rolled out
of bed at the first hint of dawn, dressing quietly so as not to wake Holly. She tiptoed into die living room area and booted up the laptop computer provided with the room. With the pressing of a few buttons she was online and down to business – sending and answering e-mails, ordering supplies, and setting up a basic Web site for the dummy corporation that would send the donation e-mail to Jack’s campaign office with the attached spyware.

By eight o’clock her stomach was growling and she was desperate for coffee, so she took a break to call room service and use the bathroom. Fortified and fully caffeinated, she finished the Web site in short order. She had to admit, it looked good. And hell, there really
was
going to be a “Citizens for Wilderness” corporation. Maybe when this was all over she actually
would
fund the charity. Her father had always supported giving back to the community. Her mother would have appreciated the irony. Cat stood, stretching to untie muscles that had clenched into knots from working so long at a poorly designed workstation.

After a long hot shower, she dressed in distressed jeans and a white cotton T-shirt with the same gold jewelry she’d worn the other night. She chose a tomato-red blazer to dress the outfit up further and ward off any chill. She combed out her hair, leaving it loose. She chose understated makeup and black dress flats. She would, after all, be meeting with attorneys, and while it probably shouldn’t matter how she looked, she’d learned from watching her mother that it did. If you dressed well, you got better service. It was that simple.

She was ready and waiting when Raven arrived. It was his job to bodyguard her today while she shopped and took care of all of the various errands that were needed to set the plan into motion. Ivan had told her last night that he wouldn’t be able to come to the hotel until sometime late in the afternoon. He would be busy meeting with the construction manager until then.

Holly was still snoring peacefully in the other room when Raven tapped on the suite door. Cat checked mentally to be sure it was him before opening the door. She put a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture, grabbed her purse, and stepped out into the hallway. She hung the plastic “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob.

Raven was wearing a navy polo shirt over khaki trousers, his long black hair pulled into a tight braid that hung down his back, almost invisible against the dark leather of the jacket he wore to hide his shoulder rig.

“Holly sleeping?” Raven asked. Cat nodded. His brown eyes darkened almost to black, and Cat could smell the muted combination of anger and determination, but he changed the subject. “So, what’s on the agenda?” he asked as he pressed the button to summon the elevator. The bell rang immediately, the polished brass doors sliding open to reveal it was empty. Cat stepped inside first, pressing the button for the lobby.

“The post office, the hairdresser, several clothing stores, and a meeting with the attorney at ten thirty.”

Raven’s eyes widened. “You actually expect to get all of that done before noon?”

“Want to make a bet?” Cat teased.

“Fine.” He agreed. “Loser buys lunch,
winner
picks where.”

“Done,” Cat agreed as the elevator slid to a halt, the bell chiming their arrival.

They walked through a lobby bustling with activity. Even though it was days until Thanksgiving, members of the hotel staff were busy festooning the entryway with holiday lights as Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” played from speakers discreetly hidden around the room.

Cat was familiar with the area from visits to Denver with her parents. Several of the office buildings had bank branches and amenities such as convenience stores, restaurants, and boutiques. In fact, the hair salon she planned to visit was tucked into the basement level of the Republic Plaza building, and the bank branch and the attorney had offices there as well. A shuttle stop for the Sixteenth Street pedestrian mall was located at the edge of a small plaza behind the building. The buses were free, and ran the entire length of downtown, stopping at nearly every corner. It was probably a security nightmare, but she honestly wasn’t that worried. The pack was up in Boulder, and wouldn’t make a move in public anyway. Jack… well, Jack wasn’t going to be using a sniper gun; he wanted the visceral satisfaction of using teeth and claws. Abduction might be an issue – but that was what Raven was here for, and she knew for a fact that he and Ivan were the best at what they did. Charles wouldn’t have left them in charge if they weren’t. She squared her shoulders, her jaw thrusting stubbornly forward. Living in constant fear wasn’t
living
at all to her mind. She’d be careful, but only up to a point.

As soon as she pushed her way through the revolving door of the Plaza building every sense was assaulted. The hotel might just be getting its decorations up, but it was obvious that the staff at Republic Plaza had gotten a jump on the season. Christmas was everywhere, from the pine garlands festooned with fake snow to the towering tree that soared to the top of the three-story atrium, its decorations ranging from full-sized sleds to glitter-covered ornaments the size of beach balls. Carolers dressed in Victorian costumes stood in a semicircle next to a piano, their songs echoing off the forest-green marble walls. Fake Christmas packages stood in stacks as high as she was tall in various comers, their wrapping reflecting colors onto the white marble floor.

Cat gestured away from the bank entrance, toward the stairs leading to the basement. “The food court is downstairs; I want to pick up another cup of coffee.”

“Do you
live
on that stuff?” Raven teased her as he descended, passing businessmen and women in traditional business suits, and a UPS deliveryman in his crisp brown uniform.

“Sometimes. It’s been worse since Violet tried to force me to give it up.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I think I’m a little contrary.”

“Then you should be the perfect match for my father.” Raven laughed.

Cat followed him past the lower level elevators toward the convenience store. The layout of stores had changed slightly since Cat’s last visit. A new Pak-’n-Ship shop had taken over the space right by the glass doors leading to the food court.

“Oh, stop here.”

He did as she bid, following her through the doorway up to the gleaming white counter. An older man in a striped uniform shirt stood behind a short counter. Behind him was a display of boxes, bubble wrap, tape dispensers, and various other sundries, with computer printed labels indicating their price. The left wall was covered with posters with shipping rates for the various carriers. The right was taken up by row after row of brushed steel post office boxes.

“Can I help you?” The man asked.

“Please.” Cat smiled. “Do you have change-of-address forms? And how much do you charge for a postal box?”

“Yes, we do.” He handed her a printed packet with the U.S. Postal Service emblem, and gestured to a poster that listed the various box sizes and rates.

“Good!” Cat smiled. “I’ll take the largest size. Do you have a pen?”

Five minutes later she had completed the paperwork for her and Violet’s mail to be delivered to the new box. She slid the key into the front pocket of her jeans along with the receipt with the address information. Thanking the man behind the counter she hurried off to the gourmet coffee shop with Raven two steps behind, shaking his head with amusement.

At eleven forty-five they were escorted to their table at Max’s Steakhouse and Raven verbally conceded his defeat. “I have to admit I’m impressed. I can’t even
imagine
what my father’s going to say.”

“It
is
a little striking, isn’t it?” Cat said with a grin. She turned her head, listening to the soft tinkle of the row of golden hoops that now decorated her ear.

“That’s one word for it.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” she scolded him. “It changes my entire look.” Cat turned to catch a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the glass of a nearby picture frame. Her long, blonde hair had been shorn until it was only a half-inch long all over her head, the top spiked with gel so that it stood up. Small glasses with thick dark frames and lightly tinted lenses perched on a nose that was pierced with a garnet stud. She’d traded her more conservative clothing for oversized black jeans with wide legs, a wide leather belt with steel spikes, and a T-shirt emblazoned with “I do what the voices in my head tell me to do.” It had just been too perfect to resist. Her “biker style” leather jacket was adorned with snaps, zippers, and a pair of perfectly functional handcuffs. It was a testament to the quality of the service that no one in the restaurant had so much as blinked an eye.

“You do realize,” Raven spoke softly so that his voice would only be audible to her, “that when you change there’s a very good chance your appearance will revert back and you’ll have to do this whole thing all over again.”

“Just the hair and the piercings,” Cat contradicted. “The clothing and makeup won’t be affected. And you have to admit,
nobody
is going to recognize me. Cat Turner wouldn’t be caught
dead
in this outfit.”

The waiter reappeared, and Raven chose their wine, waiting to speak until the bread basket had been delivered and their water goblets filled.

“Most Sazi use their noses more than their eyes.”

“True,” she agreed, “but I don’t plan to be where they’ll look for me.”

Raven sighed. “I wish it were that easy.” He took a roll from the basket and used a knife to smear it with whipped butter from the china dish the waiter had left.

“Why
wouldn’t
it be?”

“Because Councilman al-Narmer insisted on the
customary
rules of courtship.”

Cat’s stomach muscles clenched with nerves. Raven’s tone of voice and scent were a nasty combination of both worry and anger.

“And what are the
customary
rules?”

“You and my father will have to go out together, publicly, in front of pack witnesses, at least three times per week until the courtship is over.”

“I see.” Cat was annoyed.
This
was a complication she didn’t need. Every time she broke cover it increased her risk. She drummed her fingers irritably against the linen tablecloth. “What if I accept him?”

Raven choked on the bite of bread he’d taken. He coughed and hacked a bit before grabbing the water goblet to wash the crumbs down. “Excuse me?”

“If I accept Raphael the courtship is over right?”

“Cat – “

“Right?”

“You can’t do that. If you accept him, for him it’s permanent. He’s trapped.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Cat said bitterly, “we’re already trapped. Those books you guys gave me go on and on about the wonders of ‘mating.’ But the fact is, it
is
permanent. If I die, he dies.”