Right Hand Magic (11 page)

“He challenged you for Yvonne?”

Lukas grimaced in disgust. “It was horrible. The only reason Konrad didn’t tear out my throat is because I soiled myself first. After that, I was looked at as a submissive by everyone, including my father.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it, in time.”

“You don’t understand. By my kind’s rules, I’ve lost the right to mate,” Lukas said mournfully. “My family’s blood-line ends with me. I shamed my father and lost the one I love. I was forced to watch Yvonne become the mate of that thick-skulled bully. Everywhere I went, the others were mean to me because they knew I was weak. And every time I looked into my parents’ eyes, all I saw was disappointment and disgust. That’s when I decided I had to leave the preserve.

“I picked New York because I knew there were supernaturals living within the city. I hoped I could lose my past and reinvent myself here. So much for hope.” He sighed, slumping down even farther into the easy chair.

“Don’t you think your family misses you even a little?” I asked.

“What’s to miss? I’m a failure—worse, than that, I’m an evolutionary dead end! My parents are young enough to try again and get it right with a new cub. I’m doing them a favor by disappearing, Tate.

“As it is, there’s no way I can truly rejoin my people—I’ve killed a fellow were. Even though I had no choice, and Rufus was a lycanthrope and not a bastet, in the eyes of my people, killing a fellow were-being is worse than killing a human—sorry. No offense.”

“None taken,” I replied.

“I’m a pariah, now. Just like Phelan is a lone wolf.”

“You’re
nothing
like that creep!” I suddenly found myself angry—not at Lukas but at all those who had conspired to try and break this young boy’s spirit and turn him into the monster they expected. “I don’t want to hear you talking like that anymore. You’re a good kid. You’ve just gone through a lot of shit, that’s all. After listening to you, I feel like a jerk complaining about my folks.”

“You have problems with your parents, too?” His eyes widened in surprise.

“Nothing on the order of what you’re dealing with. Mine just don’t like what I do, where I live, and who my friends are, that’s all.”

“What is it you do they do not like?”

“This,” I replied, gesturing to the sculptures, both assembled and in progress, that crowded the “working” side of my space.

Lukas turned to stare at me, a look of amazement in his eyes. “Why would they not like this?”

Now it was my turn to shrug. “My parents simply disapprove on general principles. They think I’m wasting my time.”

“They’re wrong,” he said, his voice surprisingly sure for one so young.

There was a quick rap on the half-open door as Hexe entered the room. “Sorry if I’m interrupting—but have you seen Lukas?”

I pointed to the easy chair. Lukas smiled wanly at Hexe and waved hello.

“There you are. I was afraid Scratch had made good on his threats and eaten you. You got all the way down the hall on your own—? I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Lukas replied. “The only reason I’m sitting in this room is because Tate picked me up off the floor.”

“He fell down,” I explained. “But he seems okay. We were just comparing family drama before you arrived.”

Hexe nodded in understanding. “Well, in my experience, everyone has
two
families. The first is the one you’re born into; the second is the one you create for yourself. So what if your first family doesn’t want you around or understand you? Your second family does. As long as you have someone who cares, everything’s right in the world. And that’s how it should be. Being alone isn’t healthy for shape-shifters
or
humans.”

“You’re a wise man, Hexe.”

“I have my moments,” he laughed. “But the real reason I came looking for you, Lukas, is that I want to take you to see a friend of mine named Dr. Mao. He’s a healer.”

“Aren’t
you
a healer?” Lukas asked. “Why do I need to go see another one?”

“It’s called a second opinion. Besides, I’m nowhere as skilled as Dr. Mao. He operates an apothecary on the corner of Pearl and Frankfort, on the border between Golgotham and Chinatown.”

“Frankfort Street? There’s no way he can walk that far!” I exclaimed.

“That’s why I’ve arranged for Kidron to pick us up. But before we go anywhere, we need to camouflage our young friend,” Hexe said, pointing to Lukas’s forehead.

As I stared at the were-cat’s telltale unibrow, I was struck by inspiration. “Stay right there—I’ve got just the thing!” I returned a minute later with a pink disposable razor, a small hand mirror, and a can of strawberry-banana-scented shaving cream. I squirted a dollop onto my fingers and daubed it on Lukas’s brow, just above the bridge of his nose, then proceeded to scrape away the excess hair, creating the illusion of two separate eyebrows.

“Oww!” Lukas winced. “Not so rough!”

“Consider yourself lucky I’m not giving you a brow wax,” I replied. “Now hold still.” I stepped back and held up the hand mirror so Lukas could admire my handiwork. “What do you think?”

“I feel naked.” The were-cat frowned as he gingerly rubbed the freshly denuded space above his nose.

Hexe’s BlackBerry rang. He fished it out of his pocket and peered at the caller ID. “It’s Kidron. He’s waiting for us outside.”

As Hexe helped Lukas to his feet, the young bastet looked in my direction. “Tate—aren’t you coming with us?”

“Well, I was hoping to get some more work done on this sculpture. ...”

I glanced at Hexe. “I don’t want to get in the way. It’s a doctor’s visit, after all.”

“The more the merrier, I always say,” Hexe said. “Besides, I think you’ll find Dr. Mao very . . . interesting
.
”

“Not in the Chinese sense of the word, I hope,” I replied.

 

 

It took a little doing, but we managed to rustle up enough clothes for Lukas to go out in public without calling too much attention to himself.

Hexe loaned him a pair of jeans that were an inch too short, as well as an old hoodie sweatshirt, while my contribution consisted of a pair of scuffed-up old Vans.

Once he was dressed, Hexe and I escorted Lukas downstairs, careful to keep him sandwiched between us so he couldn’t fall down. Walking the single flight was torture for the poor kid, but he put up a brave front, moaning only once.

Upon reaching the first floor, Hexe disappeared into his study and returned carrying a cane, the shaft of which was fashioned of ironwood and the handle made from a goat’s horn.

“Use this,” Hexe said, handing Lukas the cane. “The handle’s a scapegoat’s horn. It’ll absorb most of the pain while you’re walking. Be careful with it, though—anyone who touches it after you’ve used it will be in for a nasty surprise.”

As Lukas leaned his weight upon the charmed cane, I could see the pain drain from his face. He paused on the threshold of the open door, staring in wonderment at the buildings that crowded the streets.

“I’ve been in New York for weeks, but this is the first time I’ve really seen this city,” he marveled.

“Believe me, the rest of New York looks nothing like this,” I assured him.

Kidron was waiting patiently at the curb in front of the house. Instead of the two-wheeled hansom cab, he was hitched up to a closed, four-wheeled carriage.

“Good afternoon, Miss Tate,” the centaur said, tipping his top hat. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Kidron,” I replied as I opened the door of the cab. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

As I turned to help Lukas into the carriage, the shape-shifter eyed the centaur uneasily. Hexe stepped forward and patted his young patient on the shoulder. “There’s no need to be scared, Lukas. Kidron is a friend. Isn’t that so?”

The cabbie bobbed his head in agreement. “We all run in the same herd, do we not?”

After we situated ourselves inside the cab—Lukas and I side-by-side, Hexe seated opposite us—Kidron trotted off in the direction of Pearl Street. Hexe glanced over at Lukas, who was looking out the window of the moving cab, taking in the sights.

“Do you mind telling me why you hesitated before getting in the cab?” he asked. “Was it because you’ve never seen a centaur before?”

“No. That’s not it.” Lukas dropped his gaze in shame. “It’s just that I—well, I fought one in the pit.”

“Bloody-minded fecker!” Hexe spat in disgust.

Lukas flinched and lowered his head. Seeing his reaction, Hexe reached out and clasped the boy’s shoulder.

“Please don’t misunderstand—I’m not mad at you, Lukas. I realize you had no choice in what happened. Marz is the one I’d like to get my hands on. He’s a vile piece of bad business.”

It wasn’t long before we arrived at our destination: a row of mixed-use tenement buildings facing the elevated Brooklyn Bridge access ramps. Dr. Mao’s apothecary shop was on the ground floor, sandwiched between a plumbing supply shop and a tapas restaurant.

As Kidron pulled up to the curb, a one-armed pink-haired Kymeran dressed in an ill-fitting dark suit emerged from the apothecary. I glanced over at Lukas. The young shape-shifter was trembling like a malaria victim.

“That’s him,” he croaked. “That’s the guard I attacked the night I escaped!”

“It’s all right, Lukas,” I said, patting his hand. “He didn’t see you. You’re safe.”

“But what is he doing here?” Despite the cool weather, sweat stood out in beads along Lukas’s brow and upper lip. I wondered, perhaps a little too late, if a panic attack could trigger shape-shifting in a bastet.

“There’s no point in getting your tail in a twist before you know if it’s a problem or not,” Hexe said, doing his best to calm the boy. “Dr. Mao’s a very good healer. I bet that croggy is simply one of his patients.”

“You could be right,” Lukas admitted. “But what are the odds of his being here, of all days?”

“Golgotham’s a very small world, I’m afraid.” Hexe sighed. “One that’s getting smaller every day.”

 

 

The interior of the apothecary shop was crowded, dimly lit, and smelled strongly of bitter herbs. One side was taken up by a long counter, behind which stood a wall full of antique cabinets, each drawer labeled in neat, Chinese script. Deer horns, still clad in their velvet, hung suspended from the dusty ceiling, along with goat horns, a narwhale tusk, and the ubiquitous stuffed crocodile.

Seated on a stool behind the counter was an elderly Asian gentleman dressed in a black silk shirt with a mandarin collar. As the bell over the shop door announced our arrival, the old man jumped to his feet with amazing speed, his head morphing into that of a tiger.

“I already told you. I don’t know anything!” he snarled.

Once he saw Hexe, the black stripes faded back into the old man’s skin and the bristling whiskers relaxed, becoming a long, drooping mustache. His gray eyebrow stretched across his forehead without a visible break.

“Forgive me, Hexe! I thought you were someone else.”

“I can see that.” Hexe smiled as the were-tiger came out from behind the counter to greet him. “You’re looking good, you old rascal.”

“The same is true of you, my friend.” Dr. Mao smiled. He turned and shouted something in Chinese over his shoulder. The set of heavy curtains that partitioned the front of the store from the back parted, revealing a teenaged Asian girl dressed in a traditional mandarin silk gown. Where her father’s unibrow was wild and bushy, hers had been waxed and tweezed into a delicate, pencil-thin line.

“Meikei! Prepare tea for our honored guest!” Dr. Mao said, briskly clapping his hands.

“Of course, Father,” the young girl replied, bowing her head. As she left the room, she peeked over her shoulder and gave Lukas a teensy smile.

“She’s beautiful.” The young were-cat had a goofy grin on his face. Little cartoon cupids flying around his head were the only thing missing.

“Play it cool, kiddo,” I whispered, giving him a quick nudge to the ribs. “You’re drooling.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Hexe took me by the elbow, steering me toward the elderly were-tiger. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought a couple of friends with me. Tate, I would like you to meet Dr. Mao.”

“Most pleased to meet you, young lady,” Dr. Mao said politely as he shook my hand. “You are human, yes? Are you a client?”

“Tate is my newest boarder,” Hexe explained.

Dr. Mao raised his unibrow in surprise. “Does your uncle know yet?”

“No, he doesn’t. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

Dr. Mao nodded his understanding. He then turned to face Lukas. “It would seem by the way this one walks that he is in need of healing. Is that not so?”

“You are correct,” Hexe replied. “Lukas—say hello to Dr. Mao.”

As Lukas moved forward to greet the healer, Dr. Mao gasped and took a step back. For a brief second the tiger stripes swam back to the surface of his skin. The apothecary grabbed Hexe by the arm and quickly pulled him aside.

“That boy is a were-cougar!” Dr. Mao hissed in alarm.

“I’m aware of that,” Hexe replied. “I didn’t think his being a were-cat would matter to
you
.”

“You don’t understand, Hexe. The Malandanti are looking for him! In fact, one of them just left here.”

“I know; we saw him. What did he have to say?”

“He said that Boss Marz is offering a cash reward for the were-cougar’s return. They’re checking with every healer and hedger in Golgotham. I’m surprised they haven’t shown up at your door yet.”

“I suspect it’s only a matter of time.” Hexe sighed. “How much money are they offering?”

“Enough,” Dr. Mao said grimly.

“Does this mean you won’t help us?”

“Of course not!” Dr. Mao exclaimed indignantly. “I am a healer above all else. I just want you to know what’s at stake. The Malandanti may fear your mother, but that will not keep them from striking at you.”