Fratricide, Werewolf Wars, and the Many Lies of Andrea Paddington

  * * *

  It only took Clarkson a couple of minutes to catch Max and bring him back to the house. Paddington was already sitting in the back room, a cup of tea in his hands and another on the coffee table.

  “Max Redclaw, isn’t it?” Paddington waved him to the couch opposite. Clarkson went to slump against the wall, but he didn’t have the body for it. Too quick and light; like he weighed nothing. He could be completely at rest one second and pouncing the next.

  Max sat. Paddington handed him a cup of tea.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “So… how was your evening?” Paddington asked.

  “They’re all there!” Max said, pointing at the backpack full of jewels on the kitchen counter.

  “I know.”

  For some reason, that seemed to scare Max.

  “What I don’t know is why.” Paddington said. “Not for the money; your parents’ estate will keep you for a few more years. Why steal jewellery you don’t need and know you can’t sell? Who put you up to this?”

  “No one, sir.”

  Not that Paddington needed an answer. Only Quentin, Clarkson, and the Andrastes had known he was at dinner with the duke tonight. Of them, Quentin had no reason to commission a crime and Clarkson would see it as too much effort. That left Adonis.

  Adonis had convinced this law-abiding kid to become a thief just to cut their dinner short.

  That was the who. The why would be harder, no doubt.

  “You’ll pay for the repair of the window,” Paddington said.

  Max nodded but didn’t make eye contact.

  “And you won’t break the law again.” He paused. “Will you?”

  Max swallowed. “No sir.”

  Paddington believed him. Something had Max Redclaw scared halfway out of his mind. Paddington suspected that the “something” was Clarkson, but he’d deal with that later. Right now he was more concerned with Adonis’s games. If he’d wanted to end the dinner, why not just ask them to leave? What else did this achieve? Defacing the shop? Destroying Max’s reputation?

  Gah. Paddington didn’t understand vampires.

  That was probably a good thing.

  Paddington drained his tea, nodded Clarkson toward the front door, collected the stolen jewels, and left. At the gate, Clarkson slapped a palm against his head. “Oh, wait,” he said, “we forgot to arrest the guy.”

  “He’ll volunteer for community service, but I’m not hauling him to the station just for obeying Adonis. For one thing, that might be what Adonis wants.”

  Clarkson shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

  “Exactly. Now give the boss a ride home, then write this up.”

  The lights were still on at his house. It smelled, as always, of vanilla and dirt and fur. Lisa was curled up on the couch in the living room, staring at her laptop.

  “I caught the guy.” Paddington sank into a recliner. It felt good to sit down and relax for a moment. “I let him off with a warning, though. I think Adonis put him up to it, but I’m not sure w—”

  “I’m pregnant.” Lisa stopped staring into space and focussed on him.

  Paddington wiped his mouth. “Say again?”

  “I think I’m pregnant,” she said, “that’s why I haven’t changed since September.”

  The change from human to wolf was triggered by hormones: testosterone in the males and oestrogen in females. Usually that meant Lisa’s changes were regular as clockwork; she’d missed her last two.

  “I started looking up oestrogen levels online,” Lisa said. “I found a graph.”

  She stopped. Paddington picked up the laptop. If he was reading the picture right, Lisa’s oestrogen would remain below the change threshold until the twelfth week of the pregnancy, after which…

  After which it would stay well above it until after the birth.

  He looked at her.

  “Yeah,” she said, then went back to staring into space.

  She would spend six months as a wolf? The three days each month that she usually spent were lonely times for her, cooped up in the house for fear that if someone saw her they’d consider her good sport and assemble a hunting party. She couldn’t even read or watch television because her wolf mind didn’t find them interesting.

  How she would occupy six months was a problem for another time. Right now, Paddington couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You’re really pregnant,” he said, so it might sink in. She kept staring vacantly, so he hugged her as well. It was awkward, because she was sitting and he was standing, but it snapped her out of the haze.

  “You’re really happy?” she asked.

  “Of course I am.”

  “It’s just we hadn’t… We’ve never talked about this stuff.” They’d had general conversations, agreed that they didn’t want more than three kids, but had never discussed trying for children. Paddington had planned on extensive research into werewolf pregnancies before they started their family: what form would their children take? Would they be werewolves already, or regular humans? Would there be one, or a litter? Babies or cubs?

  His worries were only compounded by the fact that they used protection when they were human. Which meant that conception had taken place as wolves.

  “It’s not how we pictured it,” Paddington said, “and maybe we don’t know what we’re getting in for, but… when has that ever stopped me?”

  Lisa smiled. She had a great smile: it made a light come into her eyes that was something like mischief and dare. “I guess there’s that.”

  Then he kissed her and just for a moment, the worries could wait.