Off Leash (Freelance Familiars Book 1) (25 page)

"You look lost," Tallow rumbled.

I let my head thump against the hastily opened doorway, closed my eyes and let loose a very heavy sigh. "I don't know either of their cell phone numbers. I don't know where they are." Exhaustion lapped at me with the insistence of an incoming tide. A squeal of metal stopped me from passing out where I stood. Tallow had lifted up the wreckage of Ixey's cubicle and peered into contents.

"Magi and cell phones. Not something I'd have put together." Tallow reached a long arm into the debris and withdrew the handset of Ixey's cheap office phone. With a tug, half of the handset came with it, dangling like a squished spider. She tossed it aside with a grunt, and then swayed before sinking back to all fours. I took a few steps towards her, but she heaved herself back onto two feet and turned away. "Find another phone!"

"We’ve got to find the number first. It might be somewhere in that desk." I looked at the office. The ward glowered threateningly at me. There had been an old Rolodex on O'Meara's desk. It might not have O'Meara’s number in it, but it could have Ixey's. Hopefully they were together. That would make things simpler. Tallow followed my gaze and started to knuckle-walk over to it. "Stop!"

She threw me a glance of pure annoyance.

"It’s warded. That office and that cube." I jerked my head towards the intact ritual cube. "They won't let us open them."

"Or what?"

"Knowing O'Meara? Fiery doom."

Tallow let loose a growl and bent low so her eyes were level with mine. "We are running out of time, cat. You need to call off your magus be—yip!" A shock rippled through her, and she collapsed to her knees and elbows. A beat later and a keening whine filled the air. "Oh, damn it, come on—you can't wait one more day?" Growling, she rose up to all fours, grabbed a cubicle wall and tore the lining from it, her motions so violent that I found myself backing away, my ears flattened.

"Tallow?" I asked timidly. My nose screamed at me what was happening. "Uh, should I get a doctor?"

She didn't even glance in my direction as she continued to pull any reasonably semi-soft substance in reach out of its container. First the fabric of the cube wall, and then the foam from Ixey's office chair. "I've done this before. Go find a way to contact your magus. I'll be human enough to need my house in a few days. I'd rather not go home to a cinder, if I go home at all." Her voice was steeped in bitterness.

I nodded, wheels turning in my head. Sabrina was out, and Whittaker probably wasn't a good idea. That left Jowls and Jules as my best hope for help, which meant going out and hoping the store was still open. Visions of the cops who had chased me there with their guns swam through my mind. Had I been a proper familiar, with training, I might have known how to operate the equipment that Ixey used to correspond to the magical world. I pushed that regret far away and padded towards the damaged door.

I turned back to look at Tallow as she methodically pulled apart the office furniture, her face a grimace of pain. "Uh, I know a place that might be better than here for this. It’s got a lock on the door and a bed."

She shook her head. "Unless it’s no more than fifty paces away or you can drive that truck I'm not going anywhere. If O'Meara's hunting my pack, I'll be done by the time she gets back. Whoever did this won't come back here."

There were holes in that logic, but if Tallow couldn't drive, then telling her that if they failed to get O'Meara they might return for the files in the warded office wouldn't help her. I had cursed my lack of thumbs so many times in the last few days, but never more than that moment. "Okay," I said as I found an old, slightly charred coffee cup and shoved my muzzle into it.

When I was halfway out the door, Tallow spoke again. "Thomas?"

"Yeah?" My voice echoed through the cup.

A pause. "Please hurry back. I'd . . ." She trailed off. I peeked behind me and caught the turn of her head, hiding her eyes from my gaze. Her shoulders heaved. "Just if I'm here and O'Meara comes back."

I imagined myself in her position. When she had scooped my shell-shocked self up to save me from her pack, the wrath she risked was directed not just at her own life but also at those of her children. She could have just let them eviscerate me, and then they could have dealt with O'Meara as a pack. Now, in answer to that, all I could offer her was a charred office and vague promises of calling off O'Meara's vengeance. "I'll be back as soon as I can," was all I could offer her as I trotted into the bright, moonlit night.

I had learned that a
fast trot was about the max speed I could go without having to lie down for a bit as my breath caught back up with me. I hadn’t been in peak physical condition as a human, but I hadn't sported an entire spare car tire, only a few bicycle ones. Still, I could feel the different ways my new body had been tuned by evolution. I had copious amounts of strength in my coiled muscles, but the reservoir simply wasn't as deep as my human self's had been. That said, my four-legged trot was hardly slow.

It took longer than I would have liked to walk to the plaza, but even if the cops saw me as a dog I doubt they'd just let me pass by. So I kept to the bushes along the road and threaded between the darkened buildings where I could. A familiar scent hit my nostrils as I vaulted over the fence and dove into the bushes that segmented the barrenness of the grocery store parking lot and the more Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood stylings of the plaza. I couldn't quite put a face to the smell for a moment, so I sat there, mentally combing through my head for it. A dusky musk.
Cornealius.
Why would he be here? Was Sabrina here too?
Yes.
The air answered the question without an additional sniff. It had all been there in that breath.

Carefully as I could, I crept up to the side of the building that housed Jules and Jowls’ shop and peered around the corner. The door of the shop glowed with orange light and chimed as it swung open, pushed by a bejeweled hand. I pulled back behind the wall as Sabrina’s voice reached my ears. "Don't worry, Jules, it will be better for all of us this way. It’s perfectly legal. I should have done it a long time ago."

A muffled reply I couldn't catch made her laugh. "Oh, don't flatter me. I just did what everyone else dreamed of. Goodnight." The door chimed as the hinges squeaked shut. Unable to help myself, I peeked around the corner and prayed that the half-moon light would not strike my eyes and give me away. Sabrina had floated several steps off the curb and into the nearly empty parking lot. She wore a brilliant white dress draped with countless silver bangles that pulsed with colors, some of which my brain struggled to assign a name to. A canvas bag hung from her hand, which she carried with some effort but it did not weigh her down. One did not need to see her face to tell that the woman had a grin from ear to ear. Cornealius scampered down from her shoulders. I had not even seen him nestled among the energies that pulsed around Sabrina's neck.

Cornealius, in contrast to his mistress, did not look happy. Sabrina laughed at him, and I mentally cursed the bonded mind speech. If I ever got to the point I mastered one of these familiar superpowers, listening in on magus-familiar conversations would be damned handy. Of course, what Cornealius did next was pretty damn impressive too.

The weasel seemed to grab hold of the ground with all four paws for a moment as his head bowed in concentration. With a rush of air that I felt on my whiskers, his body expanded until he filled the length of the parking spot, his fur shifted and a saddle rose from his back. Sabrina sat down, sidesaddle style. Once she grabbed the saddle's pommel for stability, Cornealius exploded into motion. They departed the plaza in less than two eyeblinks, leaving me with a tingling sense of deja vu.

My memory rewound back to the word that had glared at me from the grey trunk of a sedan. Lacking a hand to smack myself with, I drove my head into the nearby wall several times as the word
sable
stared back through my memory.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Archibald had been hit by a Mercury Sable! It had been staring me in the face the entire time. Archibald hadn't been mauled by a bear! He'd been mauled by a giant weasel! Cornealius’s words, "I hope you live to regret this decision, Thomas," echoed back to me.

It took an effort of supreme will not to shout obscenities into the night air. In my mind’s eye I could already see Sabrina assaulting O'Meara's office. Flicking away O'Meara gouts of flames as she imperiously advanced into its heart. Now she had just stopped into Gossip Central to brag!

Question was, would they help me or would they be the latest contestants on the "Box up the Cougar!" game? I pondered my options.

The only other people, and I use the term loosely, I knew were Rudy, Scrags and Oric. Nobody liked O'Meara. Scrags might chuckle and slam a door in my face. Rudy might help, but his payday rested on Sabrina selling me to Oric, which would produce a major conflict of interest that might not work out in my favor. Oric might help, but the bird could be in a different time zone. No good options. I put community outreach on a mental list of things for O'Meara to work on should she keep her job.

Hugging the building, and trying not to think about how long it had been since the walls had been cleaned, I slunk up to the door. The large metal pull handle was actually something I could operate, which was a bit of a thrill. It would have been far cooler had I gotten a stronger grip. My attempt to fling the door open resulted in just a few inches before the “fingers” of my paw slipped off the metal. I shoved my “dog nose” into the gap to stop the door from closing, and then clumsily pawed the door open. So much for a dramatic entrance. Only after I had my paw in the crack did I notice the handicapped-labeled button that would have made this endeavor much easier.

I hadn't really known what sort of reception to expect from Jules and Jowls, but looking into the shop to find Jules pointing a pistol at my head went on the list of less desired outcomes. I chirped in surprise as sudden fear crawled across my skin. "I guess this means you're closed. Can I come back later?"

"What the hell is this? A joke?" Jules said. His eyes had narrowed to a point I could not see his eyes.

Jowls stood in his previous spot on the counter, back arched and tail puffed. His eyes were wide with fear. "Sabrina just said O'Meara killed you!"

"Uh, no. I got jumped by a pack of werewolves who broke my bond with O'Meara, stuffed me a box and then tried to sell me to the highest bidder." I decide against informing them that I had personally killed Cyndi, and I licked my chops self-consciously, the taste of the cat’s blood suddenly rising on my tongue. I grinned in what I hoped was a friendly manner while staying absolutely still. "Now if you care to stop pointing the gun at me, please."

Jules and Jowls looked at each other in silent communion, and then Jules lowered the weapon to the counter but did not let it go. "So O'Meara didn't erupt in a fit of rage, and blow up Whittaker's house, leaving him and Boris for dead?" His shoulders had relaxed a fraction, but he continued to watch me with a wariness that told me not to make any sudden moves.

"I got kidnapped from Whittaker's driveway. She might have gotten upset with him if she thought he had been part of it." I shook my head, hoping O'Meara hadn't burned the—well, according to the memories I had seen,
innocent
was the wrong word to attach to Whittaker, but the wrong guy in this case. Not relevant to me now anyway. "Listen, the werewolves broke my collar. I was hoping that either of you might know her phone number?"

"
Wait!
" Jowls exploded from the counter and landed on the ground more like a mass of Jell-O than a quadruped. "How exactly did you escape from a pack of werewolves?" He advanced on me, jabbing his small nose at me as if it were a pointed instrument of pain.

"Look, can we not get into that now? I just want to tell O'Meara that I'm okay," I explained as Jowls thrust his face into mine, flehmming repeatedly. I wished I had thought to jump in a puddle.

"A pregnant werewolf? What the hell were you doing around a pregnant werewolf! Do you know how dangerous they are!?"

"I didn't have a choice in the matter!" I jerked my head away from Jowls and pushed past him, desperately hoping he'd miss the scent of Cyndi’s blood. I looked to Jules as a savior, but found only his hard glare. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I’ll tell you the whole story after I've got ahold of O'Meara. Come on, Jules—call her now."

He shook his head. "No, I can't do that. You need to leave." Jowls froze, and Jules' eyes flicked over to him and then back to me. "It’s for your own go—"

I cut him off with a snarl, the anger coming back with the speed of a reflex. "Don't patronize me! I will make my own goddamn decisions." His grip tightened on the gun, but he didn't raise it. My own legs were tensed to spring. I could see the same question in his eyes as in my mind—what was faster? A leaping cougar or a man raising a gun and firing?

"Aw, come on now! Let’s not be all
rawr
and stuffs! Relax, both of ya. Jules wants to help ya, Thomas, he does." Jules shot Jowls an angry glare. "He's just terrified of Sabrina."

The air seemed to go out of Jules. "Damn it, Jowls."

"You do not get to shoot a cub to preserve your yellow stripe from view! Totally unfabulous!" Jowls’ voice dropped low, into a mock whisper. "And I don't think he would have won that fight anyway. He ain't much of a fighter."