more disheveled than not. His jacket and tie were missing, his sleeves were rolled up. Briefcase in hand, he spread his arms in a gesture of victory.
“I fired a client,” he said. He grinned, the satisfaction and relief clear on his face.
I raised a brow and set my book aside. Knowing some of Ben’s clients, I wondered what one would finally have to do to for Ben to walk out on the case. “Which one?” I asked as he kicked the door closed.
“Remember the guy who got arrested for DUI on a suspended license?”
That’s right, my honey sure knew how to pick ’em. “Yeah?”
“Remember how I told him the only hope he had of staying out of jail was to smile nicely at the judge, agree to rehab, pay the fine without complaining, and say thank you very much?”
“Let me guess: he didn’t.”
“He showed up at court drunk.”
I winced. “Ouch. What did you do?”
He slumped onto the sofa next to me. “Let the bailiff throw him in the drunk tank, waited for him to sober up, and told him to get a different lawyer. I think they threw the book at him.”
“Don’t you sometimes wish they could just try people for stupidity?”
“Then I’d never run out of work.” He leaned toward me, and I put my arms around him as he zeroed in for a kiss. And another, and more kissing. This was the best part.
He nuzzled my neck and rested his head on my shoulder. “I think I turned into a workaholic because I didn’t have this to come home to.”
My phone rang. Ben groaned. “Ignore it,” he said.
Probably should have, but since Mom got sick I tended to get jumpy about the phone ringing. Shifting Ben aside, I grabbed the phone off the coffee table.
Caller ID showed Shaun on his personal phone.
I answered. “Yeah?”
“Hey, Kitty.” I sensed tension in his voice, confusion maybe. I could hear street sounds in the background, cars driving by. It sounded like the intersection where New Moon was.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m at New Moon,” he said. “I was about to open up for the afternoon, but... well. I think maybe you should come down here.”
“What is it?”
“Just... can you get over here and take a look?” There was a note of pleading. Like this wasn’t just a bar manager calling the owner about a little problem. Something of the wolf pack had entered into the conversation—he was asking his alpha for help. That meant weirdness, and it meant danger. The hair on the back of my neck tingled.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. I’ll be right over.” I hung up.
“What is it?” Ben asked, straightening.
“Shaun. Something’s up at New Moon.”
We both got into my car and drove downtown. Fifteen minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of the boxy brick building, where a big sign in blue and silver announced the bar. Shaun was pacing out front, arms crossed, shoulders hunched over, like stiffened hackles, for all the world like a nervous wolf. When he saw us, he seemed relieved.
“What is it?” I asked. Nothing seemed obviously wrong. I had braced myself to expect smoke and fire pouring out of the roof, or a roving militant biker gang camped in the parking lot.
“Does this mean anything to you?”
He drew me to the front door.
Burned into the wood, as if with a blow torch, a single word:
About the Author
Carrie Vaughn had a happy and relatively uneventful childhood, which means she had to turn to science fiction and fantasy for material to write about. An Air Force brat, she grew up all over the U.S. and managed to put down roots in Colorado, though she still has ambitions of being a world traveler. Learn more about Carrie’s novels, her short stories, her dog Lily, and her fascination with costumes and stick figure cartoons at www.carrievaughn.com.
