phone. He glanced up as I opened the door, but when he saw it was me, he turned back to his phone call.
Kane brushed against the backs of my legs as he scooted toward the seating area. I didn’t turn around to watch him, but I imagined him getting behind one of the potted palms that surrounded the leather chairs.
Mab and I proceeded across the lobby to Clyde’s desk. By the time we got there he was hanging up. He straightened, brushing some potato chip crumbs from his uniform, and gave Mab a welcoming smile. That is, his greenish lips stretched back way too far in a skull-like grimace. Norms have fainted at the sight of a zombie’s smile, but Mab is no norm. She offered her hand.
“Clyde, this is my aunt, Mab Vaughn.”
He hesitated, staring at her hand as though he expected her to snatch it back, then shook.
“Delighted,” he and Mab both said. This time, they shared a smile.
“Mab will be staying with me for a few days.”
“Very good.” He wrote her name down on a pad.
I heard the skitter of claws on the marble floor behind me, and I spoke up to cover the sound.
“Mab is from Wales,” I said, a little too loudly. “I visited her every summer when I was a child.”
He looked up. “South or north?”
“I live in north Wales,” she replied.
“Beautiful country!” he exclaimed. “I climbed Snowdon as a young man.”
“Did you? And what did you think of the experience?”
Clyde waxed damn near poetic on his experiences in the mountains of north Wales. Mab egged him on. After they’d talked for a few minutes, when I was sure Kane was in position, I said we’d better go up to my apartment.
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Clyde said to my aunt. He turned to me, still wearing the same smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Vaughn, but you cannot take an animal upstairs.”
Busted. How the hell had he seen Kane? We’d timed it so well. But nothing gets past my doorman.
“Clyde—”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the terms of your lease. No pets. Tenants are not allowed so much as a goldfish, let alone a large dog.”
He must have only glimpsed Kane to assume the animal running past was a dog.
Kane’s head appeared around the partial wall that had shielded him from view. His ears went back and he bared his teeth. A growl rumbled from his throat.
“Come here,” I said to him. “Please.”
He slunk out from behind the wall. Lips pulled back to show his teeth, he moved across the lobby. The growl didn’t falter.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Come on over. Let Clyde see you.”
He did. As he approached, Clyde’s red eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Kane sat on the floor beside me. He stopped growling, but his hackles stayed up. I leaned across the doorman’s desk. “Take a good look, Clyde. That’s not an animal. Or no more of one than I am.”
His eyes stayed wide as they went back and forth between us. Tentative understanding dawned.
“That’s . . . ?”
I nodded.
“But—” He picked up a calendar and squinted at it. “But it’s not a full moon.”
“Right. There’s been a . . .”
“A magical mishap,” Mab supplied. “We’re working to set things right as soon as we possibly can.”
“‘Magical mishap’?” Clyde scratched his head as though the phrase made no sense. Or like it was a euphemism for something really nasty. “Oh, no,” he said. “No, no, no. A transformed werewolf? That’s even worse. I’m certain your lease—”
“Come on, Clyde,” I said. “This isn’t his fault. You know how it feels to be changed into something you don’t want to be. You’re not going to deny him shelter because of that, are you?”
Clyde exhaled noisily, puffing out his cheeks. He looked again at Kane.
Kane didn’t whine or thump his tail. This was not an animal who’d beg. He merely watched Clyde, every muscle tense.
“All right,” Clyde said at last. “But keep him in your apartment, and stay quiet. For heaven’s sake, don’t let any of the other tenants find out.”
“Thanks, Clyde,” I said. Mab nodded her agreement.
We hurried across the lobby, before he changed his mind. Clyde didn’t have to worry we’d let the other tenants know. Whatever it took, I’d get Kane back to normal as soon as I could.
16
“WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” MAB POINTED AT THE SIXTYTHREE-INCH screen that took up most of my living room.
“That’s my roommate’s TV.”
“Surely not. I’ve seen television sets. Jenkins and Rose have one in their cottage. It’s this size.” Her hands shaped a box that estimated a little thirteen-inch screen. “Surely you’re joking.”
“No joke.” I picked up the remote from the coffee table, and the picture snapped on. Mab winced. I turned the TV off again. “Good thing Juliet’s not here right now. She leaves it on, with the volume way up, and wanders off.”
“I wouldn’t like that. Your roommate’s away?”
“For the moment.” I hadn’t yet told Mab about Juliet’s involvement with the Old Ones—there’d been so much to discuss—but I would. First, though, I’d show her my apartment and get her settled. I intended for her to stay in my bedroom, so she’d have some privacy.
Kane woofed at the blank screen. He went to the coffee table and, holding the remote with his paws, pressed the ON button with his nose. Then he carried the remote to me and dropped it at my feet.
“Let me guess,” I said, “you want to watch the news.”
He nodded.
“CNN or PNN?”
“I’ve heard of CNN,” Mab said. “What’s the other?”
“The Paranormal News Network. All monsters, all the time.”
Kane growled when I said
I picked up the remote and turned down the volume several clicks. “Okay?”
He nodded again and jumped onto the couch. He sat with his ears swiveled forward, already engrossed in a story about Congressional hearings on some banking scandal.
I took my aunt’s arm. “Let me give you the grand tour,” I said. “Not ‘grand’ in the same sense as Maenllyd, of course.” My aunt’s manor house would swallow up my apartment ten times over. But this place was home, and I was proud to show off the spacious, comfortable living room, with its separate dining area, and the eat-in kitchen with granite counters and cherry cabinets.
And then we came to my bedroom. I tried not to see the unmade bed and strewn-around clothing through my aunt’s eyes—which was more or less impossible with her standing beside me.
“Um, this is my room.”
“As I would have guessed by the unkempt bed. Honestly, child, personal habits are a reflection of character.”
“I didn’t know you were coming. If I had, the whole place would be pristine.”
“That’s no excuse. Character shines brightest when no one’s watching.”
You can’t argue with that. I know, because I opened my mouth to do so and nothing occurred to me. Okay, time to move on. We went back out into the hallway.
“That door’s the bathroom.”
“And across from it, I presume, is your roommate’s bedroom.”
