Mad for a Mate, page 12
“No excuse,” Mama Mac said. “And certainly not why you came over.”
“Uh-huh. Speaking of coming, I’ve got to be going.” Not really. But lingering wasn’t something she especially wanted to do, either. What did they even need her for? She hadn’t known about Jerry’s age. Now she was up to speed. She held up a hand to forestall protests: “Annette, David, I get why you wanted to talk to me. I didn’t know Jerry was underage. None of the Damp Squibs did. Obviously, that’s gonna be a concern for IPA. You’d be pretty crappy at your jobs if it weren’t.”
“Don’t be so quick to discount their crappiness,” Lila put in. And damn if the Stable wasn’t starting to grow on her. She was moving in with a werewolf, and lived in the midst of werebears, and seemed to run things, at least from where Verity was standing. That was…kind of cool, actually. If they had kids, would they be Stables or Shifters? You never knew what you were gonna get with interspecies marriage.
Same with squibs. Nobody knew until they tried to shift and couldn’t.
She shook all that off and tried to stay in the now. “But we didn’t push him into anything,” Verity continued. “The opposite, in fact. Jerry was an active recruiter. He recruited me, Darcy, and Norm.”
“And now he’s dead.” From David.
“Yes, thanks, I remember,” Verity snapped.
“You guys are dropping like flies.” Also from David. Then: “Ow!” Mama Mac had produced a wooden spoon from nowhere and given him a sharp rap on the elbow. Verity decided to take his rueful expression as an apology.
“If it’s not dangerous, what’s the point? And that’s not me saying that, by the way. Well, it is, but it’s also a direct quote from Jerry.” That said, now that two of the Damp Squibs were down, it was time to have a chat with Les. And the others. Scale back their dares, maybe. Or even quit? Or take a leave of absence? If that’s what you did with death-defying clubs. If they were, say, a jump club, and two of their members died when their chutes didn’t open, did the jump club disband? Or resolve to take more precautions?
She’d have to think about it, all of it—what Jerry would want, what she wanted, what she should do going forward. If anything.
She fished a card out of her wallet, handed it to Annette. “If you have any questions, I’m glad to answer them.”
Annette put the card on the table, dug out her own billfold to reciprocate. “Thank you. It was good of you to cut short your time at the memorial to indulge us.”
Oh, indulging? Is that what I’m doing?
Yeah, probably, she decided. They hadn’t grilled her. They’d been sympathetic and attentive (mostly). TBH, she owed Dev a thank-you. They were so mortified on her behalf, no one could blame her for leaving after only ten minutes. Whatever they’d had in mind had been shelved. Probably only temporarily, but she’d take it.
“I’ll be glad t’give you a ride back to your car.”
“My car’s in my driveway, Magnus. I Ubered to Jerry’s house. Do you mind giving me a ride home?”
He smiled so wide and so happy, she was momentarily disarmed. “You don’t mind me knowing where you live?”
Verity pointed to the fridge, where Mama Mac had stuck her business card like it was a finger painting. “The entire house knows where I live. Also don’t press your luck, Berne.”
“Mama, that’s not even your fridge,” Lila said irritably but didn’t move to take the card down.
“This way it won’t get lost,” Mama Mac replied.
“You can’t argue with common sense like that,” Verity teased, and Lila snickered in response.
“Aside from the color, y’seemed to like the car.” Magnus held out the keys. “Would ye like to drive?”
“Of course not. If I drive, I can’t put my feet out the window. Learned that one about a month after I got my license.” To the others: “I’m from Florida.”
As always, that was all the explanation required.
Chapter 28
Half an hour later, they were in Minneapolis’s North Loop, and Magnus was pulling up to her apartment building, a refurbished warehouse that looked better every week. If the landlord kept updating—and he showed no signs of slowing down—he’d price her right out of the building.
“Talking about Minnesota versus Florida,” Verity said, though they weren’t, but she was getting nervous, so fuck it. “This would cost me three grand a month down there.”
“It’s charming,” Magnus replied, though how he could tell from the warehouse-y exterior was a mystery.
A short silence fell. Verity took another breath (Magnus, cotton, cereal, leather seats, half-and-half) and jumped. “Aren’t you going to walk me to—whoa.” Because he’d all but leapt out of the driver’s seat, circled the car, and had her door open in half a blink. And bowed!
“This means nothing,” she warned him, getting out.
“Understood.”
“It’s just, although you’re a creep, you’ve been a decent creep.”
“Oh, aye.”
“I keep showing up without an invite, but you seem cool with it.”
“Indeed.”
“Just so we’re on the same page.”
“Yes, lass.”
“I like that. Lass. I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Noted.”
“I’m the only one on this floor so far,” she continued, leading him down the corridor through the lobby, which currently boasted an empty desk for a future concierge or security guard or ice cream vendor, and a lone chair because the landlord assumed only one person at a time would ever have to wait in the lobby to be buzzed in. They walked past the mailboxes and the enormous rust-colored pillars, and while the lighting was industrial, when paired with warm prints on the wall and comfortable furniture, it was homier than not. “When the landlord’s done, there’ll still only be three apartments per floor. Y’know, if you get tired of your island.”
“Are you inviting me to move into your building?”
“God, no.” She got her keys out, faced him. “No, definitely not. No. No, no, no. Didn’t mean to lead you on, but no. Unequivocally no. All the way around no. Could not be more of a no. Thanks for the ride.”
He smiled at her, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. He wasn’t wearing aftershave, which she liked. The fluorescents brought out the violet tinge to his hair. She’d looked up the Kamchatka brown bear the night before. Ursus arctos beringianus. Largest bear in Eurasia. Dark-brown fur with a violet tint. Yum. Oh, his yummy lips were moving. Time to tune back in.
“…you’re quite welcome, lass.”
In response, she stood there and stared at him. Gotta hand it to him: Magnus Berne knew how to dress for funerals. If another Damp Squib dropped dead tomorrow, his wardrobe had it covered.
“It occurs to me that I’ve only seen you in a robe or suits.”
“If you come back to my island, Verity darling, I’ll wear whatever you like.”
“Careful,” she teased. “I can think of some truly freaky things you could wear.”
“My invitation stands.”
She dragged her gaze up from his bod and settled on staring at his mouth, which was probably worse, and not subtle, but Jesus, the guy’s lips looked designed for sin.
What? Designed? By whom? That doesn’t even make sense!
It doesn’t have to. Shut up, brain! Nobody invited you!
She decided to take a tiny step forward then realized she already had. “Magnus…”
“Yes, lass?”
“You, um…do you…” His mouth was the moon, taking up her sky.
That makes even less sense than designer lips! Will you for Christ’s sake GET A GRIP?
“Did you…”
“Yes?”
“Did you have a thing for Sally’s mother?”
Magnus blinked, and his hot mouth tightened as he nodded. “Yes. Years ago.”
“Did you get a chance to say goodbye?”
He was silent for a long moment then shook his head. “No. By the time IPA reached me…she was gone.”
Jumped out of a plane. About as gone as it was possible to be. Ohhhhh, so many questions. Which I won’t ask. Dammit.
“Yeah. I didn’t say goodbye to Jerry, either. It wasn’t the same thing,” she rushed to assure. “We were only friends. But the last thing I said to him was ‘If you ever take the last pudding cup again, I’ll kill you.’ I have to live with that, Magnus! To the end of my days.”
There. That squashed the mood, the odd “Should I kiss him and is this wise?” energy. Whew! Right? Right. Total relief at the mood squashing.
“Well, bye!” she said brightly, and fumbled with her keys, and let herself in, and didn’t peek through the peephole to see if he lingered. Because why the hell would he?
Chapter 29
She was close now, so so close and that other that
(squib)
wouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone not Caro and not
(Dev)
her foxfriend her best and greatest brother she would see to it she would she would see blood on the ground and they would be safe and the other would be meat so she had to be sly she had to be a shadow with teeth and so she was quiet now, so so quiet, the other mustn’t see mustn’t hear mustn’t smell until it was too late until the other was in the ground and she was she was almost there and it was easy! The other was careless just like the other other was careless and it would cost them both the same it would cost them everything and that was all right that was
“Caro, will you quit skulking around and get your furry butt in here?”
eep
Chapter 30
The patio, it had to be said, was a huge selling point. Several of her kind tried to be near woods or water, even in cities. It’s why Central Park was still Central Park. (The best thing about Central Park? It was only the fifth largest park in New York City.) It’s why state and national parks were sacrosanct. Thank you, President Wilson and the Organic Act of 1916!
And while she might not be able to shift, who wouldn’t appreciate a walk-out patio that led straight to the Mississippi?
“This chick,” Verity announced to no one, “that’s who. Wait, that means I don’t appreciate—ugh, finally.” This, as Caro finally stopped farting around in the dark and arrowed straight at her, golden eyes like baleful lamps, teeth like…teeth? She wasn’t quite sure, things were happening kind of fast. Verity slid the patio door open farther and stepped back. “Mi warehouse, su warehouse. That’s how the saying goes, right? Just kidding, I know that’s not exactly how the saying…um…watch out, I guess?”
That last because a fox kit had come rocketing out of nowhere to latch on to Caro’s tail. Though rocketing out of nowhere was an exaggeration. And it was a silly one, since nothing came from nowhere. Everything came from somewhere. The fox actually came from the north side of the warehouse, probably caught the scents he was looking for (so to speak), and slipped around to the back in time to intercept the black wolf (currently yelping and trying to shake a fox off her tail) but not in time to get in front of her.
Verity sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Very clandestine, you guys. You’re like furry ghosts, if ghosts yowled and snapped and rolled around behind my apartment building in full view of anyone who might be out for a walk. Thank God the sun’s down. That was a hint, by the way. For you to stop already? And come inside? It’s a quiet neighborhood, but let’s not push it. Okay? Cubs?”
Another selling point: access to a hose hookup, which necessitated buying a hose. Her first hose! When she’d bought the thing, she had no idea what she would use it for—watering a garden? No, then she’d have to plant a garden. A Slip ’N Slide? Maybe, but only if she waited half an hour after eating before slipping or sliding. Seeing how many hoses she’d need to go from her place to the river and then filling up the Mississippi with more water for some reason?
“Fuck’s sake,” she said and blasted the wolf and fox, full force. The howls were music to her ears, which was ironic given that she wanted them to just knock off the racket already. “That’s the Jet setting, if you’re wondering. I know, I know, it’s overkill. You’re wondering why I didn’t go for something subtler, like Shower, or Mist. But the thing is, I don’t do subtle. And neither do you. And when did a mist ever prevent anyone from doing anything?”
The surprise had jolted Dev back to his other self. He knelt in the wet grass, naked and shivering, one arm slung around Caro’s neck, green eyes bright in the patio light. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
And burst into tears.
***
Ten minutes later, Dev was wearing a pair of Verity’s shorts and her purple “I like to party, and by party, I mean take naps” T-shirt. His wet hair was sticking up in unruly spikes, and he was sucking down the last packet of Little Debbie Swiss Rolls. She wondered when he had shifted and where his clothes were. How’d he even get here? Caro’s appearance was to be expected. Dev’s, not so much. He must have hitched a ride from someone, and who’d let a fox into their car? Besides a rogue animal activist?
Caro wouldn’t come in.
Verity left the patio door temptingly ajar. Then she set up a snack plate of cookies beside the door left temptingly ajar. Then she ate the cookies and replaced them with a tuna sandwich beside the door left temptingly ajar. Then she went to the other side of the living room and stayed there, far away from the snack plate beside the door left temptingly ajar. But the cub wasn’t having it, and now Verity was craving tuna.
Not that Caro looked much like a cuddly cub. She was all lean limbs and black, bristling fur and glaring eyes and low, ripping growls. She was a good size too—big as a black Lab and a hundred times more dangerous. Labs were only dangerous to snacks and ducks.
“So, just ballparking some theories here…well, one theory.” Verity refilled Dev’s glass with milk. “Caro’s met a squib before tonight?”
Dev nodded. She hadn’t been able to get much out of him since his sobbed apology. She’d brought him inside, found clean towels and clothes, and fixed him a snack because she was a terrific person who rose to every occasion, no matter how sudden or weird, but other than another apology and a muttered thanks, Dev had nothing to say.
“It’s fine, you know. About what you said at Lila’s house. There were three bears and a wolf in the room. And whatever Mama Mac is.” Capybara? Porcupine? Some kind of herbivore… “I was always going to be fine.”
“It’s not fine. It was mean and thoughtless.”
“Also, I can take care of myself. I probably should’ve said that part first.”
“Still not fine.”
Verity shrugged then rooted around in her pantry until—success! “Hellooooo, lovers,” she told the Ding Dongs. “Where’ve you been all my life?” There was a snort behind her, but by the time she turned, the kit was poker-faced.
“So. Um.” Dev looked around the kitchen and living room. Everything was minimalist, because Verity was cheap and didn’t want loads of furniture. “Are you rich?”
She saw the place through his eyes: exposed brick and pillars flanked by sleek, modern appliances (which came with the apartment). Industrial tile but loads of soft, fluffy throw rugs (carpet remnants). Industrial shelving lined with bright colors, holding books and knickknacks (contact paper and her egg cup collection, because every cup in the world should be an egg cup).11 Visible pipes and the ventilation system in her ceiling, prints on the wall (Target). Not many windows and little to no natural light, but colorful curtains (also Target). Concrete ceiling, but track lighting and lots of pendant lights (Home Depot).
“I’m not rich. Middle class all the way. I got a deal on the rent because all day long there’s construction. But my sleep apnea machine drowns out the noise. Just kidding, I don’t have sleep apnea. Just kidding, I do, but nothing drowns out the noise.”
“I wanted to see what you would do,” Dev added, because they were apparently having two different conversations. “I didn’t think about what Caro would do. That was dumb, estupido, blöd.”
“Sure, okay. All those things.”
He gulped more milk. “How come you weren’t scared?”
“How’d you know I wasn’t?”
“You didn’t smell scared. You were giving off that smell like when an engine starts to overheat.” Dev mimed billowing smoke, and she nearly choked on her Ding Dong. “You know—exasperation. Testiness.” When she didn’t immediately reply, he added, “Ärgerlich. And…um…”
“It’s fine, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the Portuguese or Mandarin word for exasperation. I was just digesting what you said. Why would I be scared? You’re a kit and a cub.”
“Caro was scared.”
“I know.” Terror smelled like a five-alarm fire. Once you scented it, you never forgot. “But she wasn’t trying to hurt me. She was just trying to get away.”
“Want to know why?”
She regarded Dev for a long, unblinking moment. He broke first, his green-eyed gaze dropping to the floor. “I think that’s Caro’s story to tell. When she’s up to it, I mean. She doesn’t owe me an explanation. We only just met.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Oh, enough with the mea culpas.”
“Wouldn’t it be meas culpa?”
“What, like I know? Finish your snack. It’s fine, I told you.”
“I’m leaving soon, is all. I won’t be around later to apologize. So.”
Leaving? As in going to a new foster home? Or back with his parents, whoever and wherever they are? Or running away? Does Mama Mac know? Or is she kicking him out?
Not my business.
“And,” Dev continued, “I needed to talk to you about something.”
“Well.” She sat across from him at the small table. “Now would be the time, then.”
