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"How long does it take to get a license?"
"Longer than you'll want to wait. But check your county and start the process. Or don't start the process, and when you get arrested you can try and claim ignorance of the law. It's not a legal excuse, but it might sway a judge. I don't know. I'd apply for a license and hope it goes through."
"What do I have to do to apply?"
"It differs from county to county. Check with your local police. They'll know who you have to see."
He nodded again. "I'll do that." He looked at me, gray eyes so serious. "Thank you, Anita."
I shrugged. "Just doing my job."
He shook his head. "This isn't your job. You're no one's alpha here. You could have just refused to help us."
"And what good would that have done?" I asked.
"Most of the wereanimals won't help each other."
"You know of all the furry--and feathered--politics, that's the one I understand the least. Just like now, what happens to one group can affect the others. If you guys had been talking to each other, then you'd have known that Henry MacNair went missing, violently missing. It might have put all of you on guard."
"You think it would have prevented the other disappearances?"
"I don't know, but it might have helped. People would have been more cautious, maybe not gone out alone. We might have at least had witnesses."
"It was after my girls--people--got taken and you helped us that Christine came to me. She knew about the bears' Ursa having gone missing. It was Ethan MacNair, not his mother, that told us about his father."
"I bet he paid for going outside his mother's orders," I said.
"Probably," Donovan said, "but you're right, if we'd just bloody talk to each other, we could help each other more."
"Not just in emergencies either," I said.
His eyes narrowed. "You mean a coalition of wereanimals?"
I shrugged. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, but why not? Something where we share information. We've got a lion working with a bunch of snakes. Why should the bad guys get along better than we do?"
"Every time one of the animals talks about joining forces they always mean that they'll be top ... dog. You want to be everybody's Nimir-Ra, Anita?"
"I'm not talking sharing authority. That'll never work without a war. I'm just saying share information, help each other more. When one of the leopards or wolves gets hurt, he, or she, has a place to stay until they're well. That kind of thing."
"Someone would need to be in charge of it."
I felt like grabbing him by the front of the shirt and shaking him. "Why, Donovan, why does anyone have to be in charge? Something happens to one of your swans, you pick up the phone and call me, or Ethan, or Christine. We call someone else. We try to help each other. We don't need a hierarchy, just a willingness to cooperate."
He looked unhappy, almost suspicious. "You don't want to be in charge."
I shook my head. "Donovan, I don't even want to be in charge of what I'm in charge of now. I sure as hell don't want to add to it."
It was Micah, who had been leaning against the wall, so still, so calm that: you forgot he was there, who said, "She's offering you friendship, Donovan "
"Friendship?" He made it sound like a foreign concept.
Micah nodded, pushing away from the wall to stand beside me. "If something goes wrong and you need help, you call your friends."
Donovan frowned hard enough that he formed lines in that flawless skin. "Wereanimals aren't even friends with each other, let alone across species lines."
"That's not true," I said. "Richard," I paused after I'd said his name, as if it hurt, or I was waiting for it to hurt. Micah touched my shoulder, and I put my hand over his, held on. I tried again. "Richard's best friend is one of Rafael's rats. My leopard Vivian is living with, and in love with, Stephen, one of Richard's wolves."
"That's different."
"Why?"
"Because the wolves and rats have a treaty, and through you the leopards and the wolves are joined."
I shook my head. "You're quibbling, Donovan, or deliberately missing the point. Let's just agree to try and help each other, that's all. I don't have any ulterior motives. I'm just trying to keep the damage to a minimum."
"It's true you didn't have to save my girls. It nearly cost you your life."
"And you didn't have to go to the lupanar with me. But you did. That's how it works, cooperation."
He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed. I'll try to get the others to agree also. You're right, you are right. If we'd just talk to each other, we could prevent a lot of bad things from happening."
"Great," I said, and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I wanted this. I wanted them to talk to each other, to help each other.
Someone cleared their throat, softly. It made us all look at Gil. He was still huddled beside the couch, where he'd been the entire time. "You have something to say?" Donovan asked.
"How far does this new spirit of cooperation go?" he asked. His uptilted green eyes were almost round with anxiety. He gripped his knees so hard his hands were mottled. He was scared; you could smell it on him, that and a neck-ruffling scent that I didn't recognize.
"What do you mean?" Donovan asked.
"I'm actually talking to Anita," Gil said.
I glanced at Micah then back to the man huddled on the floor. "What do you want to know?" I asked.
"I'm the only werefox in town. I don't have an alpha, or any family." He stopped there and licked his lips nervously.
"And?" I said.
"How much help are you willing to give?"
"How much do you need?"
"Can I stay with you until this thing, or whatever, is caught?"
I felt my eyes go wide. I opened my mouth, closed it, exchanged a look with Micah. He shrugged. "It has to be your call. It's your house."
Point. I turned back to Gil. "I don't know you at all. If you are a bad person, and you do bad things to my people, I will kill you, but if you really just want someplace to hide for a few days, you can stay."
He seemed to get smaller, more huddled. "I won't hurt anybody. I just want to feel safe again, that's all."
I looked at Donovan. "Do you know anything about him?"
"He's scared of his own shadow. I wouldn't trust him to help in an emergency. I think he'd save himself first."
Gil didn't argue with Donovan's estimation of him, he just huddled, trembling. "If we only help the strong ones, then we're not helping ourselves," I said.
"You'll take him in, knowing he can't help you in a fight, and would probably run to save his own skin?" Donovan asked.
I looked at those wide, terror-filled eyes and saw something besides fear, a pleading. They said, "Please, please help me."
"You can stay, and we'll protect you, but if there is an emergency I expect you to do your best. You don't have to fight, but don't be a hindrance."
"What's that mean?" he asked.
"It means if the guns come out, hide under something, get low to the ground. Don't make yourself a target. If my people get hurt and you have a chance to drag them to safety but leave them to die instead, you'll be next."
"I'm not brave, Anita, I'm not even a little bit brave."
"Don't be brave, Gil, just do what you're told, do your best whatever that is, but understand the rules. Keep yourself out of the line of fire because we won't have time to worry about you when the fighting starts. Help if you can, stay out of the way if you can't. Simple."
He nodded, rubbing his chin between his knees, over and over. "Simple," he whispered, "I wish life were simple."
"Life isn't simple, Gil, but a fight is." I knelt in front of him, and I hated the weakness that radiated from him. Dear God, the last thing I needed was another emotional cripple following me around. But I couldn't kick him out. Anita the bleeding heart, who'd have thought it? I stared at him, until his frightened eyes met mine. "A fight is simple, Gil. You protect yourself, your people, and you kill the bad guys. You do whatever it takes to get yourself and your people out alive."
"How do you know who the bad guys are?" he asked, voice almost a whisper.
"Anyone in the room that isn't us," I said.
