“Mom!” I threw what was left of my garlic bread at her, and she dodged it easily. “I didn't know you and Dad used to celebrate, uh, Mabon together,” I said.
“Oh, sure.” She shrugged. “I know you've chosen not to join the local pack or live the traditional were life, and I fully support your decision. But when your father was alive, we celebrated all the Pagan holidays.”
“What?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought you were a strict Catholic.”
“Well, now I am,” she said. “But in some ways the two religions are a lot alike. There's a lot of ritualism, a lot of tradition…”
“A lot of cavorting naked under the full moon,” I pointed out.
Mom laughed. “Yes, I have to admit Midnight Mass isn't as much fun as that. But you have to have someone to cavort with for it to really be any good.” She looked at me sharply. “In fact, if you're going to be out during the Hunger Moon, you just about have to have somebody. Is that why you're asking about it? Why you're so upset over you and Dani breaking up?”
I felt another blush heat my face. “We were never together, Mom. Not that way, anyway. But, well…it's just that the moon's been having…” I cleared my throat. “An increased effect on me lately. Since this is Mabon Eve and the full moon is tomorrow night, I was just thinking that I should stay indoors. You know, out of the moonlight. Away from temptation, so to speak.”
She nodded slowly. “You want to stay here so I can keep an eye on you?”
I shrugged uneasily. “I guess if it wouldn't be too much trouble. And if something does happen, I mean, if I can't stop the change, at least I'll have the woods behind your house to go to.” Mom lived in a big old Victorian mansion on the far edge of town where there was a lot of wilderness and open spaces. It was a better place to hide a pony-sized wolf in than the tiny postage stamp of a lawn around my own neat tract house. I could just imagine what my neighbors would say if they heard me howling at the moon, let alone saw me.
Mom sighed. “You know you can stay here. But I wish you'd stay out of those woods! You always got the worst ticks in there when you were a teenager.”
“I'll try to be careful, Mom.” I got up and put my plate in the sink, then went over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You're the best, you know that?”
“I try,” she said complacently, still working on the sculpture. “There. You know—I think it's just about finished.”
I stood back and looked at the sculpture critically. “Nope. I'm gonna have to disagree,” I told her. “There's no way my nipples are that big, and if they were, I'd shoot myself.”
She laughed and slapped my chest, getting a splatter of wet clay on the front of my white polo shirt. “All right, I'll make them smaller.” She went back to work. “And listen, Ben, I don't think you need to worry about Dani. She's as much in love with you as you are with her. She just doesn't know it yet.”
I sighed. “I don't think so, Mom. Or if she was, she isn't any more.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to drive back the tension headache that wanted to form there. “God—I just miss her so much. We were supposed to spend practically the whole weekend together and now…” I sighed. “Now I don't even know where she is.”
“I'm sure you'll find out,” Mom said. “Isn't that your cell phone ringing? Is that the theme to the X-Men movie?”
“Uh-huh.” I dug the vibrating phone out of my pocket and surveyed the caller ID window eagerly. “Oh, it's only DP.”
“Who?” Mom raised an eyebrow.
“An information source Dani and I use sometimes.” I sighed, debating whether to take it. I was in no mood to haul myself into the city and sit on the bus stop bench munching hotdogs with Daryl that evening. In fact, the best thing I could do would be to take a cold shower and go to bed early. Still, he'd never called me for anything frivolous before. Reluctantly, I pressed the connect button. “Hello?”
“Hey, Ben, my man.” DP's voice filled my ear. “How they hangin'?” he asked.
“A little low and to the left,” I shot back, keeping an eye on my Mom, who was still working to correct the enormous nipples she'd sculpted. “What's going on, DP? I really don't think I can get to the city tonight. I'm kind of spending some quality time with my Mom.”
“Well, ain't that sweet?” Daryl said. “But listen, you better get your white ass to the city, because while you're spendin' quality time with your mom, your lady is spending some quality time with Thrash Savage.”
“What?” I had almost sat down again, but now I shot up out of my chair. Just because I wasn't active in the local pack didn't mean I didn't know the leader. Thrash Savage was the most ruthless Lead Wolf the pack had ever known, at least according to my grandfather. He was no one you wanted to get on the wrong side of, and now Dani had apparently gone after him, no doubt for a lead on that damn story I'd told her to drop.
“You heard me.” Daryl sounded unperturbed. “She came by about an hour or so ago askin' for information. Said something about wantin' to find some missing girl. I tried to warn her off, but well, you know Dani. Once she decides she wants to do something, that girl's like a dog with a bone—ain't lettin' it go nohow.”
“Yeah, I know.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Where did she go? Do you have any idea?”
“Well, I told her Savage's usual Friday night hang-out so I guess she mighta went there. You know—La Bella Luna?”
“Yeah, I know it.” It was a local Italian restaurant that was were owned and operated. I had only eaten there once with my grandfather. They made a pretty decent eggplant parmesan. But if Dani had gone there to try and get information out of Thrash Savage, she might end up being the main course herself.
“Ben, you there, man?” I heard Daryl ask.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” I sighed. So much for my plan to stay in on Mabon Eve. It looked like I was going to have to go after Dani again, even though I knew she would hate me for it. Even more than she already hated me, that was. Great. Just great. But she was in way over her head, and no matter how she felt about me, I still loved her. I couldn't leave her to fend for herself around the likes of Thrash Savage.
“Thanks for the information, DP,” I said. “I really owe you one.
“Well, I figured you should know. I mean, Dani can take care of herself for the most part, but Thrash Savage…” I could almost see him shaking his head, his platinum teeth gleaming.
“I know,” I said. I was already reaching for my keys. “I better go.”
“Talk to ya later, my man,” he said. “Oh, and just for future reference, my price is now a C note, not a Grant. Okay?”
“I got you,” I said. If what he'd told me helped save Dani's life, I wasn't going to quibble about the price. “Bye.” I clicked off and looked up to see my mom looking at me anxiously.
“You have to go out, don't you?” There was worry in her eyes but resignation as well.
“Yeah, Mom.” I put my cell phone back in my pocket and gave her a hug. “I'm sorry, but it's Dani. She's about to get herself into some deep trouble if she doesn't watch out.”
Mom sighed and reached up to hug me, careful not to get any more clay on my shirt. “You do what you have to do, honey. Just…be careful. Okay?”
“I will,” I promised. But inside I wondered how careful I could be, considering where I was going and who I was going to face.
Chapter Eleven
Dani
La Bella Luna was a really classy place—seen from the front. The back was a run-down alley with some pretty smelly dumpsters, one of which I was currently hiding behind. I'd changed out of my executive power-woman suit and into a plain black skirt and a white button down shirt. That way I could pass for a casual diner, or maybe even a waitress in a pinch. If push came to shove and it was a busy kitchen, they might just think I was a new hire.
The back door slapped open and a large, burly, balding man came out with a steaming pot of something that smelled liked burned tomato sauce. He started slopping it into the du
mpster across from the one I was hiding behind and yelling at the top of his lungs.
“That Anthony—he burned the gravy again! What the hell I'm s'posed ta do with a chef that can't cook?”
A younger man with curly brown hair and sad eyes came out. “Uncle Pete. C'mon, please. I din' mean to burn it. And I don't mean no disrespect, but you din' even tell me to watch it.” He spread his hands in a gesture of reconciliation.
“What?” The older man's face was dark red now. “Now I gotta tell you ta watch the gravy? Where's your common sense?”
The younger man refused to get mad. “Maybe it's like my ma says—common sense ain't so common anymore.” He shrugged.
“I'll show you common sense,” the burly man shouted. It looked like they were going to be at it awhile. Seeing my chance, I slipped in through the back door while both of their backs were turned and slid into a busy, bustling kitchen. No one even looked at me, which was a good thing since I'd never been in the restaurant before and had no idea where anything was.
To my immediate left, several blackened gas stoves were going full tilt with two sweating men working over each one. To my right was a prep area where two harried sous chefs were throwing together salads and antipastos like their lives depended on it. Straight ahead and to the left was a set of swinging steel doors that probably led into the restaurant proper. To the right of the doors, just past the salad prep area, was a row of coat hooks and what looked like a hallway leading somewhere besides the kitchen or the main restaurant. Could this be the back room Daryl had told me about?
I walked purposefully through the main kitchen as though I knew where I was going. As I passed the row of hooks, I snagged a short, black half-apron and tied it around my waist, hoping I looked like a waitress just starting her shift. I was just about to take a right into the shadowy hallway, when a meaty hand grabbed my arm.
“Hey, where you think you're goin'?” It was the burly guy—the one who had been giving poor Anthony hell for burning the gravy. He looked me up and down, and I tried to look annoyed instead of scared.
“To the back room,” I said, taking a chance. “To get the order for Mister Savage's party.”
He frowned. “Tina's the only girl allowed back there when Thrash is here. Besides, they always have the same thing: spaghetti bolognaise.”
I shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. “Tina's sick and asked me to cover for her. She told me they always have the bolognaise, but I figured they might like to order some drinks.”
The burly balding man seemed to consider for a minute, then he shrugged. “Well, what the hell. I'll fire Tina's skinny ass later. In the mean time, come with me.” He dragged me into a small wine pantry and proceeded to uncork a bottle of nicely aged Merlot. He put it on a tray with three long-stemmed glasses and shoved it at me.
“Thanks.” I started to pick the tray up, but he stopped me with one hand.
“Now, look—when you bring this in be sure to serve Mister Savage first. And when you pour his wine say, 'Compliments of Pete on Mabon Eve.' Got it?”
I nodded. “Compliments of Pete on Mabon Eve,” I parroted back to him.
“Good.” He smacked me on the rear in a way that would have earned him a pair of ruptured testicles if I hadn't been undercover. “Do good tonight and you might get the job permanently.”
“Thanks.” I picked up the tray before he could fondle my ass any more and headed for the hallway. I had no idea where the real Tina was or how long I might have before I was found out, but there was nothing to do now but play along.
The hallway was a lot longer than it had looked, and darker too, with several twists and turns that muffled the sounds from the noisy kitchen. Halfway down the length of it, I ran into a girl dressed much like I was, carrying a tray under her arm.
“Tina?” I stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah?” She eyed me skeptically. “Who're you, and what are you doing down here? I'm the only one who serves the Savage party.”
“I'm new,” I said. “And Pete sent me down here with the wine to tell you that Anthony burned the gravy for the, uh, bolognaise again. He needs you to run out and get some…some fresh tomatoes so he can make some more.”
Tina didn't seem convinced. “Pete ran out of tomatoes?”
“Hey.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm just telling you what he told me. He said, 'Tell that Tina to get me ten more pounds of tomatoes and make it quick, or I'm gonna fire her skinny ass.'”
Tina's face got pale, and I felt a little sorry for her. “Yeah, okay,” she mumbled and hurried back in the direction I had come from. I took a deep breath and continued down the hallway, which dog-legged abruptly to the left and ended in a plain black curtain that must be the entrance to the private room.
Behind the curtain, I could hear voices—one loud and deep and angry, and the other softer and somehow familiar. Balancing the wine bottle and glasses carefully in one hand, I leaned forward and put my eye to the crack between the curtain and the doorframe.
“Explain to me again why I gave you over fifty thousand dollars for this, and all I get is shit in return.” The loud, angry voice belonged to a man that could only be Thrash Savage. My eyes went to him immediately, and I bit my lip. In a culture or society, or whatever you wanted to call the werewolf set, which produced large, alpha males, Savage was the largest and most alpha I had ever seen.
Even sitting down I judged he was over seven feet tall, but he wasn't long and skinny like most tall guys are. Not a bit. He was built like a Mack truck, and he was wearing a black leather jacket that must have taken a whole cow to make. He had long, brown hair streaked with gray pulled back in a greasy pony-tail, and narrow, slotted eyes that were a pale, inhuman yellow. The eyes made me wonder if he had spent too much time as a wolf because they definitely belonged in an animal's face, not a human's.
“I tell you, I've done the best that I can. The first phase succeeded beautifully—it's only the second that's giving me problems.” The soft, familiar voice dragged my attention away from Savage, and I bit back a gasp when I saw who it was. Doctor Locke sat with his back to me, wearing an old gray sweater vest that had moth-holes eaten in it in several places. Whatever he had done with Savage's money, it hadn't been a shopping spree for the latest in couture, I decided.
“Well, your best isn't good enough, Doctor,” Savage growled, leaning across the table. “When I asked for a female shapeshifter, I meant that I needed one that would actually shift—not stay stuck in one Goddamn form.”
“I'm not certain what the problem is,” Doctor Locke mused. “I know there is a gene present on the X chromosome which is somehow responsible for making male shifters and weres, but I haven't been quite able to isolate it yet. If only I had a little more time to explore the root of the issue, I could discover why the gene is dormant in females and understand why there are no female shapeshifters in the first place.”
“Well, you're outta time. Mabon is tomorrow.” Savage's deep voice was frustrated. “I need a girl to be the Mabon queen, and I need her now.”
“She does make a lovely wolf though, as I'm certain you'll agree.” Locke leaned over the side of the table and called, “Sasha, here, girl. Come here,” in a coaxing tone. There was a soft whine from the far corner of the room and then the click of toenails on the hardwood floor as the white wolf Ben and I had seen the night we visited the doctor's lab came into view. She trotted over to Savage and laid her chin on his knee, looking up at him appealingly with her pale blue eyes.
“Yeah, very fuckin' lovely.” Savage pushed the wolf's head away, and she crept over to Doctor Locke instead, her tail between her legs.
“I've managed to activate her were gene with the treatments I gave her,” Locke said thoughtfully. “But it seems to be working only one way and keeping her in wolf form for some reason.”
“The problem is, I can't fuck her in wolf form—not and perform the Great Rite. She has to be human, to represent the Goddess,” Savage emphasize
d.
“Well, this is not an exact science, you know,” Doctor Locke said. “It's entirely possible that during the Great Rite, Sasha—”
“Will you stop callin' her that?” Savage growled. “Her name is McKinsey, damn it! How many times do I have to tell you she's not your goddamn pet?”
I put my free hand over my mouth. Was it possible? Was the missing girl, McKinsey Cullen, actually right there in front of me, locked inside the body of a wolf? It sounded like science fiction but then, so had the idea of werewolves last night before Ben had admitted to actually being one. I studied the wolf closely. It was true that its pelt was almost the exact same shade of platinum as the hair of the girl in the graduation picture, and the eyes were the same pale blue as well.
“As I was saying,” Doctor Locke continued, unperturbed. “It's entirely possible that the energy generated during the, ah, Great Rite will activate the gene again—flip it almost like a light switch, if you will—and Sa, er, McKinsey will once more regain her human form.”
Savage leaned across the table and grabbed Doctor Locke by the front of his ratty sweater. His slotted, yellow eyes glowed with rage, and his voice was so deep it was no longer human. “You're…not…listening,” he growled, enunciating each word pointedly. “I can't perform the Great Rite without a human Mabon queen. And I can't generate any energy unless I can fuck her. And I can't fuck her unless she's human.” He gave a short, barking laugh. “Think that's what you brainy types call circular logic, huh?”
“I…I…” I couldn't see Doctor Locke's face, but his hands were trembling with fear. Sasha, or McKinsey as I supposed I would now have to think of the wolf, sat up on her haunches and started barking fiercely. I couldn't tell if she was trying to protect Locke or agreeing with Savage.
“Shut up!” Savage glared at the wolf, which abruptly stopped barking and lay down with a whine. He turned his attention back to Locke. “I picked McKinsey as the Hunger Moon's Mabon queen because she was such a sweet fuck she created a massive power flow when we screwed,” he said. “I gave you all that fuckin' money for your precious research, and you swore to me she'd be ready. Now you tell me she's not. Where in the hell am I gonna get another girl who's right for the part at the last goddamn minute?”