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Chapter Seven
Hudson
“I think they’re overreacting,”Hudson was saying. He and Julius were sitting at their dining room table, Chinese takeout containers in front of them, all totally empty. A nearly-empty Pabst Blue Ribbon sat in front of Hudson, a nearly-empty Sierra Nevada in front of Julius. “Teal and turquoise are basically the same color, and if that weirdo hadn’t been looking through our trash for the empty paint cans, he’d have no idea our moulding isn’t up to the neighborhood association’s standards.”
Julius shook his head, idly flicking one fingernail against his near-empty bottle.
“Maybe we should report him for those god-awful dogs he has. I swear I think they’re having seizures every time I drive up.”
“Maybe we could rig something to bark at him every time he drives up,” Hudson said, a smile playing around his lips.
“There’s nothing against motion-triggered recordings in the Neighborhood Handbook,” Julius said.
A mischievous glint came into his eye, and he looked at Hudson.
“There are a thousand things we could do to piss him off that are perfectly within regulations.”
Hudson leaned back in his chair, grinning. He knew that people didn’t understand what Julius saw in him and vice versa, but it was stuff like this. Julius tempered his worst instincts, and he had a way of bringing out Julius’s devious side.
“Just sign him up for anti-shifter newsletters, wait for everyone in the neighborhood to see them, and then watch him squirm,” he said.
“Blow dandelions into his front yard,” Julius said.
“Throw—”
Julius’s phone, sitting on the table, went off, rattling the cardboard and plastic containers. Julius sighed.
“Just ignore it,” Hudson said. He swallowed the last of his beer and set it back on the table.
Julius was already looking at it, frowning.
“It’s Ash,” he said, and answered it.
* * *
Thirty minutes later,they were walking through the halls of the police station. They both still wore jeans and t-shirts — Julius’s from his law school, Hudson’s plain black.
Ash had refused to tell Julius what was wrong over the phone, and Hudson wished that the man would be a little less stubborn. Fuck regulations, he thought. There was almost nothing that Julius handled worse than uncertainty. Not that his mate was controlling, exactly. He just had some pretty strong opinions.
They rounded a corner and knocked on the door to Ash’s office.
“Come in,” Ash’s voice boomed.
“What’s—”
Julius stopped in the doorway, and Hudson had to look around him.
Quinn was sitting there, looking nervous in an old, ugly chair.
Hudson’s bear stirred, and he closed his eyes, trying to fight it down. That was something he’d never been particularly good at.
“Hi,” she said.
“Sit down,” Ash said, waving his hand at two equally ugly chairs, also facing his desk. It was the second time that day that they’d been sitting opposite Quinn.
Sooner or later, this specific arrangement ought to lead to something good, he thought, taking his seat.
“All right,” said Ash. “Before we can do anything, you’ve got to tell them what you told me.”
