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I started eating the sandwich and washing it down with Coke. Ethan’s shoulder rig was flapping around his shoulders with no belt to attach the bottom to, but at least he had his gun. I realized I didn’t have mine and I didn’t know where it was; I looked behind me, and it was sitting in the chair.
I swallowed, though my throat suddenly felt tight. I choked a little on the Coke and when I could speak I asked, “Did I just get up and walk toward them without checking where my gun was?”
“I kept track of it for you,” Fortune said.
“That’s not the point and you know it.”
“Finish your sandwich and the Coke, then see how you feel,” Ethan said.
I nodded and did it because I didn’t have a better idea. The hyena faded into the dark inside me by the time I was finished with the food. That was good. I looked at Nicky standing to one side of Ethan, and I wanted him again, or at least wasn’t angry with him.
“My hyena doesn’t like lions,” I said.
“They’re natural enemies,” he said.
“I know, but that’s never impacted how I feel about you before.”
“Jane’s right about you needing a hyena to call,” he said.
“But not tonight,” Fortune said.
I shook my head. “No, not tonight, I’m too tired to make good choices.”
My phone rang; the ringtone was “Leader of the Pack” by the Shangri-Las. It was Richard Zeeman, and Jean-Claude had picked the ringtone that we both used for the Ulfric, the Wolf King of St.Louis. “Hey, Richard,” I said, and it was just a phone call, no metaphysics. Normally I would have seen it as a politeness, but now it scared me.
“Our rule is that we check in with each other before we go mystical. Has that changed?” he asked. Yes, he and I were the only ones in the poly group who had that rule. We had a lot of history together, not all of it good; the fact that we were a threesome again with Jean-Claude didn’t change that.
Relief flooded through me; I shook my head as if he could see it and said, “No, it’s just I thought you couldn’t reach me, because of the damage to the marks.”
“No, Anita, no, if you want me to use the marks I can.”
“I know we both wanted a warning before we entered each other’s consciousness, but today I just want the mystic stuff to work,” I said.
“Okay, but be aware that I’m at the Lunatic Café and someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the window.”
“God, was anyone hurt?”
“No, they closed early because of all the other fires and vandalism. It’s just property damage.”
“How bad?”
“If you still want me to use the marks you can see for yourself.”
“Do it,” I said.
I felt his energy and I reached for it, for him. I started to get lost in that long wavy brown hair, the dark brown eyes, the high sculpted cheekbones, and all the rest that made him almost painfully handsome, but the room around him distracted me. The front half of the Lunatic Café was charred black; the old-fashioned cash register that they didn’t use anymore but kept because it had been there since the place opened was a melted lump, as if the explosion had landed directly on it.
“Oh, Richard, what the hell?”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said.
“Great, because it looks awful.”
“I’m just glad that I’m finally out as a werewolf so I can handle emergencies like this instead of Micah having to handle it. It hasn’t been fair that he handled issues that my wolves were having when he’s the king of the wereleopards.”
“Micah is head of the Coalition for Better Understanding between the Human and Therianthrope Communities; it’s his job to take care of issues regardless of what animal group is involved,” I said.
“Still, I’m glad that I could do this tonight. Our pack owns this place, it should be my job.” I felt his guilt at letting Micah do so much for the local werewolves for so many years, and other guilt. He’d been Clark Kent while the rest of us ran around trying to be Superman for the werewolves.
