The Good, The Bad, And The Undead

Matt looked nervous as he took us up an elevator and left us in a long plush room that overlooked the field. It was comfortably full of talk and nicely dressed people. The faint smell of musk tickled my nose. Glenn tried to give me my hat back, and I motioned for him to keep it.

'Ms. Morgan,' a small woman said, excusing herself from a group of men. 'I am so glad to meet you. I'm Mrs. Sarong,' she said as she approached, her hands extended.

She was shorter than me, and clearly a Were. Her dark hair was graying in wispy streaks that looked good on her, and her hands were small and powerful. She moved with a predatory grace that drew attention, her eyes seeing everything. Were men had to work hard to hide their rough edges. Were women got more dangerous- looking.

'I'm pleased to meet you,' I said as she briefly touched my shoulder in greeting since my right arm was in a sling. 'This is Detective Glenn, of the FIB.'

'Ma'am,' he said shortly, and the small woman smiled to show flat, even teeth.

'Delighted,' she said pleasantly. 'If you would excuse us, Detective? Ms. Morgan and I have a need to chat before the game begins.'

Glenn bobbed his head. 'Yes ma'am. I'll get you both a drink if I might.'

'That would be lovely.'

I rolled my eyes at the political niceties, relieved when Mrs. Sarong put a light hand on my shoulder and led me away. She smelled like ferns and moss. Every man watched us as we moved together to stand by a window with an excellent view of the field. It was a long way down, making me slightly queasy.

'Ms. Morgan,' she said, her eyes not at all apologetic, 'it has just come to my attention that you were contracted to retrieve our mascot. A mascot that was never missing.'

'Yes ma'am,' I said, surprised how the title of respect just seemed to flow out of me. 'When I was told, my time and energies were given no consideration.'

She exhaled slowly. 'I detest digging out prey. Have you been magicking the field?'

Pleased at her frankness, I decided to be the same. 'I spent three days planning how to break into Mr. Ray's office when I could have been working on other cases,' I said. 'And while I admit that isn't your fault, someone should have called me.'

'Perhaps, but it remains that the fish was not missing. I am not in the habit of paying out blackmail. You will stop.'

'And I'm not in the habit of offering it,' I said, having no trouble keeping my temper as her pack surrounded me. 'But I'd be remiss if I didn't make you aware of my feelings in the matter. I give my word I won't interfere with the game. I don't need to. Until I get paid, every time a ball goes foul or a bat cracks, your players will wonder if it's me.' I smiled without showing my teeth. 'Five hundred dollars is a small price for your players' peace of mind.' Lousy five hundred dollars. It should have been ten-times that. Why Ray's henchmen wasted bullets on me for a lousy stinking fish was still beyond me.

Her lips parted and I swear I heard a small growl in her sigh. Athletes were notorious for being superstitious. She'd pay.

'It's not the money, Mrs. Sarong,' I said, though at first it had been. 'But if I let one pack treat me like a cur, then that's what I'll be. And I'm not a cur.'

She brought her gaze up from the field. 'Not a cur,' she agreed. 'You are a lone wolf.' With a graceful motion, she motioned to a nearby Were, one that looked oddly familiar, in fact. He hastened forward with a leather-bound checkbook the size of a Bible, which took two hands to handle. 'It's the lone wolf that is the most dangerous,' she said as she wrote. 'They also have extremely short life spans. Get yourself a pack, Ms. Morgan.'

The rip of the check was loud. I wasn't sure if she was giving me advice or a threat. 'Thank you, I have one,' I said, not looking at the amount as I tucked it in my bag. The smooth shape of the baseball touched my knuckles and I pulled it out. I set it into her waiting hand. 'I'll leave before the game starts,' I said, knowing there was no way they would let me back in the stands. 'How long am I banned for?'

'Life,' she said, smiling like the devil herself. 'I, too, am not a cur.'

I smiled back, genuinely liking the older woman. Glenn drifted closer. I took the champagne he handed me and set it on the windowsill. 'Good-bye, Mrs. Sarong.'

She inclined her head as way of dismissal, the second flute of champagne Glenn had brought resting easy in her grip. Three young men lurked behind her, sulky and well-groomed. I was glad I didn't have her job, though it looked as if the perks were great.

Glenn's shoes sounded loud on the concrete as we made our way back to the front gate without the help of Matt and his golf cart.

'You'll tell everyone good-bye for me?' I asked, meaning Nick.

'Sure.' His eyes were on the huge signs with their letters and arrows pointing to the exits. The sun was warm when we found it, and I relaxed as I went to stand at the bus stop. Glenn came to a halt beside me and handed me my hat. 'About your fee—' he started.

'Glenn,' I said as I put it on, 'like I told your dad, don't worry about it. I'm grateful for them paying off my I.S. contract, and with the two thousand Trent gave me, I've enough to see me through until my arm heals.'

'Would you shut up?' he said, digging in his pocket. 'We worked something out.'

I turned, my gaze dropping to the key in his hands and then rising to his eyes.

'We couldn't get approval to reimburse you for the canceled class, but there was this car in impound. The insurance agency salvaged the title, so we couldn't put it up for auction.'

A car? Edden was going to give me a car?

Glenn's brown eyes were bright. 'We got the clutch and the transmission repaired. There was something wrong with the electrical system, too, but the FIB garage guys fixed it, no charge. We would have gotten it to you sooner,' he said, 'but the DMV office didn't understand what I was trying to do so it took three trips down there to get it transferred to your name.'

'You guys bought me a car?' I said, excitement bubbling up into my voice.

Glenn grinned and handed me a zebra-striped key on a purple rabbit's foot key chain. 'The money the FIB put into it just about equals what we owed you. I'll drive you home. It's a stick, and I don't think you can handle shifting gears yet with your arm.'

Heart suddenly pounding, I fell into step beside him, scanning the lot. 'Which one?'

Glenn pointed, and the sound of my heels on the pavement faltered as I saw the red convertible, recognizing it. 'That's Francis's car,' I said, not sure what I was feeling.

'That's okay, isn't it?' Glenn asked, suddenly concerned. 'It was going to be scrapped. You aren't superstitious, are you?'

'Um…' I stammered, drawn forward by the shiny red paint. I touched it, feeling the clean smoothness. The top was down, and I turned, smiling. Glenn's worried frown eased into relief. 'Thank you,' I whispered, not believing it was really mine. It was mine?

Steps light, I walked to the front, then the back. It had a new vanity plate: runnin'. It was perfect. 'It's mine?' I said, heart racing.

'Go on, get in,' Glenn said, his face transformed by his pleased enthusiasm.

'It's wonderful,' I said, refusing to cry. No more expired bus passes. No more standing in the cold. No more disguise charms just so they would pick me up.

I opened the door. The leather seat was warm from the afternoon sun and as smooth as chocolate milk. The cheerful dinging of the door being opened was heaven. I put in the key, checked that it was in neutral, pushed in the clutch, and started it up. The thrum of the engine was freedom itself. I shut the door and beamed at Glenn. 'Really?' I asked, voice cracking.

He nodded, beaming.

I was delighted. With my broken arm, I couldn't safely manage the gearshift, but I could try all the buttons. I turned on the radio, thinking it must be an omen when Madonna thundered out. I turned 'Material Girl' down and opened the glove box just to see my name on the registration. A thick yellow business-size envelope slid out, and I picked it up off the floor.

'I didn't put that there,' Glenn said, his voice carrying a new concern.

I brought it to my nose, my face going slack as I recognized the clean scent of pine. 'It's from Trent.'