Carrie Vaughn - Kitty Goes to War

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Catching up,” he said. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs, leaned back, crossed his arms, and glared.

“On what? You were only in prison for two years.”

“Kitty, what do you want?”

The next step would be to rifle through his fridge and cupboards to make sure he had food and was eating. I refrained from going that far. Ben was right, we were treating Cormac with kid gloves, and that couldn’t have been going over very well with him.

“Have you found out anything else about Franklin?” I stood near the table, trying to look interested, but was actually sneaking looks at more book titles. The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion by Mircea Eliade? The Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology?

“I’ve been trailing him,” he said. “Been keeping my phone off. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. So what’s the story on him?”

“He’s visiting Speedy Marts all over town. He does the same thing at each one—puts a charm in a box and leaves. I haven’t checked all the boxes. I thought I ought to keep my distance after that last encounter.”

“He has to be doing this for a reason.”

“The signs are he’s prepping some kind of spell. I just don’t know what kind—protection spell, get-rich spell, whatever.”

“Or summoning hurricanes?” I said.

He gave me an annoyed look. “Or maybe he visits all his stores to recharge the magic, like a cycle. He has a regular travel schedule to visit various franchises, and it doesn’t usually coincide with hurricanes.”

“That could just as easily be explained as regular business. President of the company inspecting his franchises and all that.”

“Best kind of magic hides in plain sight,” he said. “Like working a ritual symbol into the store’s logo. This could be a little more underhanded. He’s planning something, getting ready for something.”

“Like what?”

“Sabotaging his own buildings for the insurance money? I don’t know. It may just be good-luck charms.”

“He just happened to have his Denver trip scheduled right after he sues me.”

“That’s the kicker,” Cormac said. “He could have harassed you over the phone, but he came to do it in person. No, he’s up to something. We just have to figure out what. And maybe stay away from thunderclouds in the meantime.”

I leaned on a wall and crossed my arms. “Have you always known so much about magic?”

He looked away. “I might have picked up some things here and there.”

“In prison?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“This”—I gestured to the library around me— ”can’t all be about Franklin. What else are you researching?”

“Nothing.” He leaned forward, gathering together the books, shutting them, arranging them in piles, out of my reach and easy view.

“And have you been burning sage?” I said. Books, incense—I could even claim I smelled a faint whiff of magic, though I was sure it was my imagination. I had no idea what magic smelled like. No guns, no weapons, and even the smell of Cormac’s leather jacket was buried. “Seriously—are you okay?”

“I’d forgotten how damn nosy you are.”

I tamped down a flush of anger at that. Instead of rounding on him with the witty comeback no doubt sitting on the tip of my tongue, I started for the door.

“I have to get going. I told Ben I’d be home soon.”

“You two seem happy,” he said to my back. “I’m glad.”

There, just stab me through the heart . . . Which wouldn’t necessarily kill a werewolf. But it still hurt.

My hand on the doorknob, I hesitated, looking back at him and mustering a smile. “Thanks. And what about you? Are you happy or just coping?”

“Ask me again in a year.”

“That’s actually encouraging. You’re still planning on being around in a year.”

He shrugged. “I told you; I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’ll see you later,” I said, and he nodded.

BEN WAS at work at his desk in the corner of the living room and turned when I came in, his look inquiring. “Rough day?”

“I stopped by Cormac’s place,” I said, propping myself on a nearby wall.

He leaned back in his chair. “You thought he needed checking up on?”

“I got worried,” I said, shrugging. I suddenly felt like I’d done something wrong.

“So how is he?”

“He’s alive. Making progress on the case. But—have you noticed anything odd about him? Anything different?”

“Like what? You mean something other than what’s usually wrong with him?”

Like the surliness, the borderline sociopathy . . . “I don’t know. He had piles of books everywhere on some of the weirdest topics, and I think he’s been burning incense. You’ve known him your whole life. Has he always been this . . . I don’t know . . . studious? Obsessive?”

“Kind of, yeah. Obsessive, at least. All about getting the job done, especially with the hunting. Especially since his father was killed.”

“And now it’s like if he can’t do it with weapons he’ll do it some other way? Books and research?”

“Maybe. You didn’t expect him to have some kind of epiphany in prison and turn into Little Mary Sunshine, did you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t expect anything, I guess.” Honestly, I hadn’t known Cormac all that well before he went to prison. He’d been this shadowy vigilante figure who slipped in and out of my life. He wasn’t much different now, I supposed. But all those books were just weird. Maybe I felt like he had changed, but I couldn’t figure out how. “But he smells different. Just a little.”

“And if we weren’t lycanthropes we wouldn’t notice it.” Ben turned thoughtful. “There is something else. He gets distracted. Staring off into space, like he sees something or is listening to something. When I shake him out of it he pretends that it didn’t happen. I haven’t really asked him about it. I figure he’s just adjusting to being on the outside again.”

“When have you ever known Cormac to get distracted? When has he ever not been completely focused on the world around him?” I said.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I do know the more we pester him the more annoyed he’s going to get. We just have to leave him alone.”

Cormac was a grown-up. He didn’t need us to worry about him.

“We’re acting like a couple of alpha wolves carrying on about a wayward pup,” I said, smiling.

“When you say you want kids I didn’t think you meant one like Cormac.”

Was that what it was? Displaced maternal instinct? I wrinkled my nose and thought about it. Ben stood, joined me at the wall, and leaned in to kiss me on the forehead.

“What was that for?” I said.

“You’re cute.”

Well, that was something, anyway.

I leaned into him for a hug. He wrapped his arms around me. A few inches taller than me, he put his nose to my hair and inhaled, taking in my scent, sending a pleasant flush along my scalp. I sighed, and he shifted, breathing in along my ear, my neck, and bending to breathe along my shoulder. Something wolfish showed through in his movements, which in turn brought out more of my own animal instincts, and lowered my inhibitions. I ran my fingers through his hair and brought my face close to his so I could return the gesture, breathing in the scent of him. His arms squeezed me, and he moved to smell my other shoulder.

Then I realized he really was smelling me, taking in my scent. Checking me over.

I pulled away and cupped my hands around his face to make him look at me. I didn’t even have to explain my confusion; he looked sheepish. Guilty.

“What exactly are you looking for?” I said.