“You can show me the way, Constable Kask,” Harley told Bohdan. “Mojag, see what you can do about getting the stove working. It’s freezing in here.”
“You might want to open the damper in the chimney, first,” Akicita said.
Mojag cursed softly. “A damper!”
•
BOHDAN POINTED OUT THE FOUR-year-old dark Ford sedan parked on the hardpan in front of the store. “That’s hers.”
Harley held the car key out to him. “You’ll have to drive.” She pulled the cloak in around her as tightly as possible to close off chinks of cold air trying to creep beneath.
Bohdan took the key. “You can’t drive?” His gaze flicked to the little humps of her wings beneath the cloak.
“I don’t have a license,” she said stiffly.
“So? This is Falconer. We have our own way of doing things. You must have noticed by now.”
“Falconer is a town in Alberta, a province which has laws about driving without a license.” Harley moved around to the passenger side of the sedan. “What is the point of upholding laws we don’t intend to follow ourselves? If the old races want full citizenship, they should live by the same standards that citizens do.”
Bohdan looked thoughtful as he unlocked the car and got behind the wheel.
Harley spent a few minutes adjusting the passenger seat, tilting it back a few degrees more, then got in very carefully. She’d learned the hard way that getting into and out of small vehicles provided challenges the average human did not have to deal with.
First, she lifted her left wing and tucked the end carefully between the seat and the center console. Then she settled on the seat herself. Then she even more carefully tucked her right wing between the door post and the seat. The declined seat provided room for the bulk of her wings, up between her shoulder blades.
Then she could lift the seatbelt over her wings and shoulder and clip it closed.
Bohdan watched her arrange herself with close attention. When she was settled, she dropped her Aviators into place, for the sun was bright in the cloudless blue sky. They were also large enough to hide the horn dots over her brows. She nodded at Bohdan. “Okay, let’s go.”
Silently, he started the car. It was still warm from Akicita’s journey from her house to the store. Just as silently, Bohdan turned the heater on full, and flipped all the vents away from himself and toward Harley. She appreciated the gesture and could feel herself relax as the hot air blasted her feet and her face.
Bohdan turned onto the main street and drove north at a steady fifty kilometers an hour, obeying the speed limit. Harley turned her head, watching the few stores and private homes slide by. Most of the homes showed bright lights through their front windows, for nearly everyone in Falconer grew their food, now. In winter, that meant turning their homes into grow-ops.
Harley had spent years breaking up illegal grow-ops in Edmonton and overseeing the disposal of marijuana plants. Now marijuana was legal, and a grow-op house instead held a small farm’s worth of vegetables and herbs.
“Do you know where I can buy bed sheets?” she asked Bohdan, as a general store flashed by, reminding her.
“Sheets?” He sounded startled. “Nowhere here, I guess. You could get them online…” He winced. “I suppose we could figure out a way for you to order them online.”
She shook her head, the idea repugnant. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”
There was no mistaking when they had reached Campbell von Havre’s establishment. Akicita had spoken of a business. She had failed to indicate the size of that business.
Bohdan turned into a parking lot in front of a shed which looked as though it might have been an indoor arena, once. The iron cladding had been recently painted a pleasant dark green color and two dozen cars were parked on either side of the lot. A glassed-in section in the far corner of the shed held a door and Harley could see a reception desk behind the glass, complete with receptionist.
“This is Campbell’s business?”
“Pot farm,” Bohdan supplied, switching off the engine. “This used to be the town’s hockey rink, only there hasn’t been a hockey team since I was in elementary school. When Campbell came to town, he bought it up and converted it to an indoor farm. Uses hydroponics and grow lights…well, you’ll see for yourself.”
Harley extracted herself out of the car with the same care as she entered it, while Bohdan waited for her on the footpath running along the front of the shed. She grimaced and resettled the cloak over her shoulders. “Sorry. I’ll get faster at it.”
“Out of practice?” Bohdan asked.
“This is only the second car I’ve been in since I emerged.”
His brow lifted very high. “Shit damn,” he said softly. He hesitated, then said, with an air of confession, “There’s dozens of orcs in Falconer, but no firebirds. You’re the first I’ve met.”
“I’ve never met another one, either.” She moved along the path swiftly, looking forward to getting out of the crisp, cold air and into stuffy manufactured heat.
The receptionist was very young and very nervous when she saw what Harley had under her cloak, when she took it off. “Please, have a seat. I’ll call Mr. von Havre…” She picked up her phone.
Harley moved away from the desk and took in the fresh paint, the motivational posters on the wall and the tall palm tree in the corner, which was real, as far as she could tell. At least it was warm in here.
Bohdan plucked his shirt away from his chest. “Phew.”
“Is it always like this?” Harley asked, thinking of the dead body somewhere inside.
“Ideal growing conditions, I suppose,” Bohdan murmured. He tapped the wall, which sounded hollow and thin. “The heat in there bleeds into here.”
Harley nodded. “This is your first official body. Let me do the talking, okay? Got a notepad?”
He patted
