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"A great one."
He blinked, genuinely surprised, and I felt a prickle of guilt. Clay and I had our issues--huge ones that had kept us apart for ten years. I'd grown so accustomed to holding him at arm's length that even now, I suppose in some ways I still did. I was quick to say a casual "miss you" on the phone, but never a heartfelt "Hey, I really, really miss you."
He knew I'd really missed him. It just threw him to hear the words. Another thing I needed to work on.
As the plane lifted off, I brought Clay up to date on the possible wolf kills. Yes, our fellow passengers could hear us, but no one eavesdrops on a conversation like that and thinks, "Oh my God, they're talking about werewolves!"
There had been two deaths so far. Both had been men out alone traipsing through the Alaskan wilderness at night, which seems to be natural selection at work, as much as African tourists who decide to camp beside watering holes.
The first victim had been a New Age Vancouverite on a spirit quest, fasting in a teepee. The second was an ex-con stealing from traps. Really, could you blame the wolves for thinking these two would make a nice late-winter feast?
The authorities were blaming a single man-eating wolf. At the site of both killings, they'd found the tracks of a huge canine. Werewolves change into very large wolves, retaining their body mass. And outside the Pack, most are loners.
Still, that didn't mean it was a werewolf. It just bore looking into, as long as we were going to Alaska for other reasons.
By the time I finished my explanation, dinner was served. Given the hour, most passengers stuck to drinks and peanuts, but no werewolf turned down food, however strange the time. While we ate, Clay talked about the symposium. Then I gave him another update--this one on Reese Williams.
Again, our conversation might sound odd to anyone listening, but as long as we didn't mention the W word, they'd fluff off my talk of fights and chases as a movie plot discussion. Most people were asleep anyway, as was I after dinner and a glass of wine.
While I napped, Clay read the Alaskan tourism information I'd downloaded earlier. Surrounded by strangers, he couldn't relax his guard enough to shut his eyes.
When I woke, I looked down to see city lights below.
"Still night?" I said, yawning. "What time--?" I checked my watch. "It's past six. Where's the sun?"
"It's past five local time, and it's Alaska, darling."
"Shit. That's right. Duh. So when can we expect to see the sun?"
"It'll start rising around eight-thirty, but won't get over those mountains for a while. An earlier daylight saving time doesn't do them any favors here."
"No kidding."
I could make out the city below, nestled in a valley, surrounded on three sides by snowy mountains and the fourth by the ocean. Beyond those lights of civilization? Miles of wilderness.
I smiled. "Uncharted territory."
"The best kind." Clay shifted closer, hand resting on my thigh as he looked out the window. "Still too dark to get to work, checking out those kills or looking for Dennis. We'll have to find other things to do."
"We could go to the hotel and get some sleep..."
He snorted.
"Sex or a run?" I asked.
"Do I have to pick one?"
I grinned. "Never."
PLAYTIME
ONCE IN THE terminal, naturally we had to check for Reese, in case his flight had been delayed or he'd decided to hang out here rather than pay for an extra night's hotel room. We went in search of all the secluded, tucked-away places he could hide. Unfortunately, post-9/11 these places are increasingly hard to come by in airports.
"Goddamn it," Clay muttered after our third possibility proved to be staffed by a security camera. "Where the hell is a mutt supposed to hole up around here?"
Before he stormed down the car-rental hall, I caught his arm and pointed to a sign warning of construction ahead.
"About time," he grumbled.
