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Which meant finding another way in.
I leapt skyward again, flying for a bit before swooping down the side of the building. A third-floor window was open, so I circled around and landed on the sill. From inside came the sound of a bed squeaking and the grunts of a man. The smell of sex and sweat was so heavily ingrained that even in this form I could smell it.
I ignored it, hopped from the sill to the floor, then looked around for security. There didn't appear to be anything here - no cameras, and no monitoring devices of any kind that I could see, except for a discreetly placed button wired to the end of the bed. To be used if customers got nasty, no doubt.
The couple were in the lone bed. The man was obese and sweating heavily, the woman slender and dark skinned. She was chewing gum in time to the man's movements.
I shook my head. I could never really understand the human necessity to pay for sex - mainly because I couldn't understand what joy there was in only one partner having a good time.
But then, I was a werewolf, and sex was something to rejoice and celebrate. Maybe you needed to be human to understand the concept of paying for sex.
Unfortunately, the door was closed. I padded across the threadbare carpet to check it out anyway, but in seagull form, I was never going to open it. I swore internally, then moved under the only other bit of furniture in the room - a somewhat bedraggled-looking chaise longue.
Thankfully, the sex didn't last all that long. The man came, the woman looked at her watch, then hit him lightly on the back. "Time's up."
Her voice was gravelly and uneven. I wondered if it was natural or caused by too many cigarettes. The man grunted and climbed off her, his body wobbling in all the wrong places. He threw the condom in the trash, then dressed and walked out of the room - and slammed the door shut behind him.
The woman reached for a packet of cigarettes on the scrappy-looking dressing table beside the bed, popped one out, then lit up. She sucked in a deep breath and blew out several rings, then turned her head and looked straight in my direction.
"Who the fuck are you, then?"
Chapter 5
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then strolled out. She might have spotted me, but she hadn't yet started screaming for help. That was something, I guess.
I didn't change shape immediately, though. There was always an off chance she just liked talking to seagulls, so I pecked at something disgusting on the carpet and tried to act birdlike.
"I like the attempt," she said, casually drawing on the cigarette again, "but I'm sensitive to weres and shifters, and I felt you out on the sill. Shift shape and talk to me, or I'll scream for help. And I'm figuring you don't want that if you're sneaking in through windows."
Given little other choice, I shifted shape, then sat on the chaise longue. My T-shirt hadn't fared much better than the other shirt, forcing me to tie the ends together to stop my breasts from falling out.
"What are you?" she asked, her gaze sweeping me critically. "You can obviously take on bird form, but you feel like a wolf."
"That's because I am."
She raised an eyebrow. "Lucky. So, why are you here?"
"That depends on how fast you want to run downstairs and report my presence to the guard."
"Ah. Well." She sat up and swung her legs around. She was naked, but as uncaring as a wolf. Which was unusual for someone who smelled human, but I guess in her line of business, you'd lose your modesty early. "I earn fifty bucks for twenty minutes in this dump. Pay me that, and my lips are sealed."
I heard nothing but truth in her words and her mind. So I reached into my pocket, retrieved my wallet, and pulled out fifty bucks. But I flipped the note away as she reached for it. "I want honest answers. And I can tell truth from lies."
"Deal. Though I may not know what you want."
"Fair enough." I let her have the cash. "What can you tell me about apartment 404?"
She raised a well-plucked eyebrow. "Only that it's off limits for us ladies."
"But that hasn't stopped you from being curious, has it?"
She smiled. "No." She paused to take a drag on her cigarette. "There's two men who head up there regularly. One is a werewolf, the other is a shifter of some kind. A bird, I think, from his scent."
"Can you give me descriptions?"
She shrugged. "They're men. Leaner and fitter than the bozos I service, but still men. The wolf has brown hair and brown eyes, the other is a blondie with green eyes."
"And how do they walk?"
