“We can only go forward, child,” Mab said. She produced a wad of bills and peeled off two twenties. “Here you are,” she said, handing them to the man. “Now please allow us to proceed.”
The old man took the bills, sniffed them, and stuck them in his shirt pocket. Then he got up and shuffled across the room. His movements were slow, but something in them suggested he was faster and stronger than he appeared. I had a feeling that anyone who tried to cheat this toll collector would end up sorry.
He stopped in front of a metal storage cabinet. After fumbling in his pants pocket, he pulled out a key and opened the door.
“Have a pleasant journey,” he said.
Kane led the way again, jumping into the cabinet and into the tunnel beyond. This tunnel was more passable, an underground corridor large enough that Mab and I could walk next to each other. There was even fluorescent lighting.
I’d heard about a network of secret tunnels in and out of Deadtown, but I’d always thought they were a rumor. It surprised me that Kane actually used them.
It also surprised me that Mab was carrying American money. She hadn’t brought her passport with her through the collective unconscious—Jenkins was sending it by mail—so where had she gotten cash? I hadn’t thought to wonder when she’d brought me breakfast and clothes, but the question hit home when I saw that stack of bills she was carrying.
“It’s Mr. Kane’s. He brought it when he picked me up,” she said when I asked her. Kane, who was in front, turned his head back and nodded in agreement. “Of course, I shall pay him back when I’m able.”
Kane snorted and shook his head.
It took us half an hour and two more toll payments to reach Deadtown. We must have zigzagged all over—or under—downtown Boston, but in the cellars and tunnels, it was hard to trace our exact route. Finally, we went up some stairs. I twisted a bulkhead handle and pushed open the steel door—and we were in Deadtown. I recognized the place right away, a small side street near the garage where I rented a space for my Jag. We were only a few minutes from my building.
It was daylight, so the streets were empty. Still, we took the back way, keeping Kane out of sight as much as possible. The citizens of Deadtown wouldn’t panic at the sight of a wolf on the street, but they would notice. And the fewer people who saw Kane out and about in his wolf form, the better.
The tricky part, I thought as we approached my building, would be getting him past Clyde, who took his doorman responsibilities very seriously. Nobody snuck past Clyde’s watchful eye. But then, he was watching for zombies, vampires, and other monsters, along with the occasional norm, not for animals. No one expects to see a four-legged werewolf in all his furry glory when the moon is waning. If I could distract Clyde, maybe Kane could slink past him.
We paused in a doorway half a block from our goal, and I told Mab and Kane my plan: “On the left side of the lobby there’s a seating area. Clyde’s desk is on the right. Mab and I will go in first. Kane, you come in right behind us and hide in the seating area. Keep low. I’ll introduce Mab to Clyde. While we’re talking, try to slip to the elevators.” A partial wall blocked the lobby’s view of the elevators, so he could stay out of sight while he waited for us there.
Nobody had any improvements to suggest, so we walked to my building. We were in luck; Clyde was on the phone. He glanced up as I opened the door, but when he saw it was me, he turned back to his phone call.
Kane brushed against the backs of my legs as he scooted toward the seating area. I didn’t turn around to watch him, but I imagined him getting behind one of the potted palms that surrounded the leather chairs.
Mab and I proceeded across the lobby to Clyde’s desk. By the time we got there he was hanging up. He straightened, brushing some potato chip crumbs from his uniform, and gave Mab a welcoming smile. That is, his greenish lips stretched back way too far in a skull-like grimace. Norms have fainted at the sight of a zombie’s smile, but Mab is no norm. She offered her hand.
“Clyde, this is my aunt, Mab Vaughn.”
He hesitated, staring at her hand as though he expected her to snatch it back, then shook.
“Delighted,” he and Mab both said. This time, they shared a smile.
“Mab will be staying with me for a few days.”
“Very good.” He wrote her name down on a pad.
I heard the skitter of claws on the marble floor behind me, and I spoke up to cover the sound.
“Mab is from Wales,” I said, a little too loudly. “I visited her every summer when I was a child.”
He looked up. “South or north?”
“I live in north Wales,” she replied.
“Beautiful country!” he exclaimed. “I climbed Snowdon as a young man.”
“Did you? And what did you think of the experience?”
Clyde waxed damn near poetic on his experiences in the mountains of north Wales. Mab egged him on. After they’d talked for a few minutes, when I was sure Kane was in position, I said we’d better go up to my apartment.
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Clyde said to my aunt. He turned to me, still wearing the same smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Vaughn, but you cannot take an animal upstairs.”
Busted. How the hell had he seen Kane? We’d timed it so well. But nothing gets past my doorman.
“Clyde—”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the terms of your lease. No pets. Tenants are not allowed so much as a goldfish, let alone a large dog.”
He must have only glimpsed Kane to assume the animal running past was a dog.
Kane’s head appeared around the partial wall that had shielded him from view. His ears went back and he bared his teeth. A growl rumbled from his throat.
“Come here,” I said to him. “Please.”
He slunk out from behind the wall. Lips pulled back to show his teeth, he moved across the lobby. The growl didn’t falter.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Come on over. Let Clyde see you.”
He did. As he approached, Clyde’s red eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Kane sat on the floor beside me. He stopped growling, but his hackles stayed up. I leaned across the doorman’s desk. “Take a good look, Clyde. That’s not an animal. Or no more of one than I am.”
His eyes stayed wide as they went back and forth between us. Tentative understanding dawned.
“That’s . . . ?”
I nodded.
“But—” He picked up a calendar and squinted at it. “But it’s not a full moon.”
“Right. There’s been a . . .”
“A magical mishap,” Mab supplied. “We’re working to set things right as soon as we possibly can.”
“‘Magical mishap’?” Clyde scratched his head as though the phrase made no sense. Or like it was a euphemism for something really nasty. “Oh, no,” he said. “No, no, no. A transformed werewolf? That’s even worse. I’m certain your lease—”
“Come on, Clyde,” I said. “This isn’t his fault. You know how it feels to be changed into something you don’t want to be. You’re not going to deny him shelter because of that, are you?”
Clyde exhaled noisily, puffing out his cheeks. He looked again at Kane.
Kane didn’t whine or thump his tail. This was not an animal who’d beg. He merely watched Clyde, every muscle tense.
“All right,” Clyde said at last. “But keep him in your apartment, and stay quiet. For heaven’s sake, don’t let any of the other tenants find out.”
“Thanks, Clyde,” I said. Mab nodded her agreement.
We hurried across the lobby, before he changed his mind. Clyde didn’t have to worry we’d let the other tenants know. Whatever it took, I’d get Kane back to normal as soon as I could.
16
“WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” MAB POINTED AT THE SIXTYTHREE-INCH screen that took up most of my living room.
“That’s my roommate’s TV.”
“Surely not. I’ve seen television sets. Jenkins and Rose have one in their cottage. It’s this size.” Her hands shaped a box that estimated a little thirteen-inch screen. “Surely you’re joking.”
“No joke.” I picked up the remote from the coffee table, and the picture snapped on. Mab winced. I turned the TV off again. “Good thing Juliet’s not here right now. She leaves it on, with the volume way up, and wanders off.”
“I wouldn’t like that. Your roommate’s away?”
“For the moment.” I hadn’t yet told Mab about Juliet’s involvement with the Old Ones—there’d been so much to discuss—but I would. First, though, I’d show her my apartment and get her settled. I intended for her to stay in my bedroom, so she’d have some privacy.
Kane woofed at the blank screen. He went to the coffee table and, holding the remote with his paws, pressed the ON button with his nose. Then he carried the remote to me and dropped it at my feet.
“Let me guess,” I said, “you want to watch the news.”
He nodded.
“CNN or PNN?”
“I’ve heard of CNN,” Mab said. “What’s the other?”
“The Paranormal News Network. All monsters, all the time.”
Kane growled when I said monsters, but I ignored him. I wasn’t going to let a wolf take me to task for being politically incorrect. He wanted to watch CNN, anyway, as he let me know by jumping up and knocking the remote out of my hands when the TV showed that channel.
I picked up the remote and turned down the volume several clicks. “Okay?”
He nodded again and jumped onto the couch. He sat with his ears swiveled forward, already engrossed in a story about Congressional hearings on some banking scandal.
I took my aunt’s arm. “Let me give you the grand tour,” I said. “Not ‘grand’ in the same sense as Maenllyd, of course.” My aunt’s manor house would swallow up my apartment ten times over. But this place was home, and I was proud to show off the spacious, comfortable living room, with its separate dining area, and the eat-in kitchen with granite counters and cherry cabinets.
