Marcus Pelegrimas - Teeth of Beasts

“Sure they did, but it was a mix of human and canine,” she explained. “They’re writing that off to contaminated evidence at the scene. There’s still plenty of crackpot stories floating around, but the official word coming from the police and Humane Society is that those animals were a breed of large dog suffering from an exotic disease. Once that was released, most of the bigger news affiliates have been focusing on the possibility of an outbreak. Some are even saying that disease got passed from the sick dogs on to us as this Mud Flu thing. They’re wrong about that right?”

Cole nodded. “They can only spread their disease when they’re alive, and it sure as hell isn’t the flu.”

The barrel-chested man swiveled around to ask, “You know that for certain, do ya?”

“That’s what I read.”

“You a doctor?”

“No.”

“My granddaughter caught that damned Mud Flu, so it ain’t no joke.”

When Cole fumbled through a quick apology, the man’s gray eyebrows clumped together to make it clear that Santa had found a new name for his naughty list. Grumbling something about another bunch of know-it-alls, he swiveled back around to scoop up some more of his Salisbury steak.

“So,” Abby whispered. “Do ya really know that for certain?”

“Yes,” Cole assured her. “If Half Breeds could strengthen their numbers through anything as simple as a bite or some sort of airborne disease, there would be a whole lot more of them running around. Have there been any more dog attacks lately?”

Abby shook her head and pecked away at her keyboard. “There have been a few sightings of weird animals digging up backyards in a KC suburb, but that sounds more like people just being nervous. If you want the full details, you should watch our new cable special. It’ll be on next month.”

“I’d be nervous living in KC too,” the bearded man at the counter grunted. “Buncha damn fools runnin’ around lootin’ and givin’ the cops hell while some rabid dogs tear loose.”

“I heard it wasn’t dogs at all,” the woman behind the counter said. “I read somewhere that it was some sort of new tiger that was bred at a private zoo.” Leaning across the counter as if she’d just seen Cole, she asked, “Can I get you something, hon?”

“How’s your chili?”

“Ain’t it too warm for chili?”

Pointing to the metal pot behind her, he replied, “Then it should be too warm for coffee.”

The woman looked back, conceded the point with a shrug and lifted the lid to one of the larger pots next to the coffee machine. “How about some beef stew?”

“Close enough,” Cole said.

It didn’t take long for the stew to be ladled onto a plate over a few slices of white bread, but it was more than enough time for Abby to collect her things and pack them into her satchel.

“So tell me,” she said after Cole’s stew had been placed in front of him. “How’s everything with you and Paige? I heard she was hurt in KC.”

“Her arm’s still in a sling. At least, it was the last time I checked. She had to go back there to wrap up a few things.”

That was the short story.

The long version was that Kansas City had been handed over to the group of shapeshifters that helped rid the city of its werewolf infestation. Mongrels were a long way from human, but they were easier to deal with than Half Breeds, and not as powerful as Full Bloods. Paige was supposed to check in on them to make sure they were settling in and not tearing through anything on two legs. Mongrels seemed to prefer living underground, which was why Cole hadn’t flinched at the story about something digging up a yard or two. As for Paige’s injury, he tried not to think about that. Doing so only made him feel like an ass for tooling around in a rental car while his partner was on the mend. Then again, Paige wouldn’t have responded well to coddling.

Now that her things were packed, Abby sipped some tea and swirled the ice cubes in her glass. “So how was Seattle? Did you get that sweet deal you were after? The one with your new game idea?”

“Yeah, I picked up a royalty check. Caught up with a friend of mine. Got fired.”

Abby froze with the edge of the glass perched on her lip. “Did you say fired?”

Thanks to the echo effect the glass gave to her voice, the F word didn’t seem so bad. “More or less. I’ll still get royalties, though, and Jason will probably throw some freelance work my way.”

Setting down her glass, Abby studied him for a moment and then said, “You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

“You know something? I’m really not. I drove all around Seattle, hitting the old spots…”

“I do that when I go home to Michigan,” Abby told him. “I call it taking the tour.”

“On my way out there, I thought it would be this nice, welcoming thing. Like maybe Seattle would just reach out for me and make me feel at home again.” Cole used his spoon to shove a chunk of potato around to clear a path through his watery gravy and nudged a few peas out of the way. When he bumped against the slab of white bread, he set his fork down. “But I just felt like I didn’t belong there.”

“You don’t. You’ve moved on. Don’t you live in Chicago now?”

“Yeah.”

“And don’t you have a new job?” Lowering her chin and raising her eyebrows, she whispered, “A much more exciting job?”

“It’s not just Seattle. It’s everything. All of it felt like it was just from…before.”

“Before?”

Before he was attacked by a Full Blood. Before he was introduced to Paige Strobel. Before he knew monsters were real. Before “Skinner” was something other than a name in a psychology textbook. But he didn’t want to say all of that in the restaurant, so he settled on, “It’s not part of me anymore.”

Abby scooted even closer, wrapped an arm around Cole’s shoulders and softly told him, “I heard about what you did in KC and read about lots of other stuff you did before that. Everything that’s a part of you now seems pretty great.”

Cole looked over to her and got a quick nod along with a tight-lipped smile. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her. The only thing holding him back was the fact that they were still technically in the early stages of their first real meeting. And before he could think of another excuse of why he shouldn’t do something, he just did it.

Abby’s lips were rigid and hesitant at first, but she quickly leaned into him and relaxed. Just as Cole pulled away, he felt a little breath escape from her mouth. She’d only just closed her eyes, but quickly opened them amid a flutter of naturally long lashes. Before he could get much of a look at those eyes, she pointed them in another direction.

“When you’re done with that, I’ve got some business to take care of,” she quickly announced.

“I wasn’t quite done, but…oh, you mean the food.” Pushing the plate away, Cole said, “I’m done with that.”

“Then take it outside,” Santa grumbled.

When Cole started to fish his wallet from his pocket, Abby stopped him with a hand that lingered a bit longer than necessary upon his wrist. “If you’re willing to help me with my business, then lunch is on MEG.”

“What kind of business are you talking about?”

“You ever hear of a Chupacabra?”

Less than half an hour later Cole was once again in his car. Instead of being led by Romana, he followed the taillights of a cute redhead with thick glasses while holding his cell phone. He poked the newly redesignated second speed-dial button and waited to hear an answer from a contact that had become only slightly less important than his parents.

It took twice the normal amount of rings, but the call was eventually answered.