Shaded Vision
Page 25

“It is.” I paused, waiting. I knew the guards had searched them, so there shouldn’t be any danger, but given the events of the past few days, I was leery.
“My name is Amanda Flanders, and this is Neely Reed and Carlos Rodrigues. We’re from the United Worlds Church. I’m sorry we’re late, but we had another meeting to attend. We have a proposition for your members.” She pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pocket.
Everyone was leaning forward, listening. FBHs usually weren’t invited into our meetings, but I motioned for them to approach the microphone. Menolly cocked her head, giving me a quizzical look, but I just gestured for her to wait.
Amanda stepped up to the microphone and cleared her throat. “Hello. We are members of the United Worlds Church, and we’d like to bridge the gap between Supes and FBHs by forming an anti-hate organization called All Worlds United in Peace. It will be a secular group focused on working together to promote understanding between the races. Many of us come from families who suffered intolerance and prejudice. It’s time to turn Seattle back into what it once was—one of the most friendly cities in the nation.”
She passed me one of their pamphlets, and I glanced through it. The premise looked good, and they seemed sincere. I nodded for them to hand out their brochures to the audience.
As people flipped through the pages, I glanced at their mission statement.
The goal of AWUP is to promote harmony between the races sharing this world, whether human, Were, vampire, Fae, or otherwise unknown. We seek to create and implement a vision for the future that is inclusive, rather than exclusive. We seek to lobby for the rights of the entire Supe Community, and to act in unison. When one member of AWUP is harmed, all members come to harm.
As I looked up at the audience, I saw people nodding, and then, slowly, excited whispers began to fill the room. As people moved forward to chat with our guests, I moved back beside Menolly.
“You think they’re on the up-and-up?” I was surprised that the thought of duplicity even occurred to me. I was the optimist of the group. But I’d seen too much lately and realized I’d never be naïve again.
Menolly, the one usually quickest to jump to conclusions, paused, watching the interaction out on the main meeting floor. After a moment, she cocked her head.
“You know, I think they are. I have a good feeling about this. We’ve been needing something to pull everybody together, and the fact that FBHs are extending a peace offering may mean we pull some people off the fence. We aren’t out to win over the haters. We need to focus on those who haven’t made up their minds—the ones who don’t take part in the hate crimes but don’t do anything about it.”
“Good analysis.” I paused as Neely tapped me on the arm. She was a pretty black woman, short and curvy, with short curly hair.
“Excuse me, but the Regent told me I might want to talk to you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“May we speak in private?” She looked around, a little nervous.
I motioned for her to follow me into the hall. Once we were out of the hubbub, she sat down on the stairway leading up to the second floor. The steps were polished, the railing newly finished. The vamps had updated Sassy’s home and made it shine. It had always been pretty, but now it was exquisite.
“So, Neely, what do you want to talk about?” I sat down beside her, leaning back, resting my elbow on the step behind me.
She blushed, smiling. “I wanted to know…I’m studying Inter-World studies at the UW. I want to write my master’s thesis on what Otherworld is like. I’d like to arrange for a trip—escorted, of course—to Otherworld for a week so I can get a feel for what it’s really like. I hope to eventually write a book on Otherworld from an FBHs point of view.”
I blinked. A lot of people had expressed a desire to go to OW, but the OIA had put a kibosh on any unofficial travel. However, we were no longer employed by the OIA. “I can’t really help you out right now, but I’ll see what I can find out about the possibility of a tour. Meanwhile, it’s not the same, but my sisters and I can talk to you…answer some of your questions.” The United Worlds Church had made an effort to reach out to us; the least we could do was return the favor.
“I’d like that.” She held out her hand, and I took it. Her skin was warm and her grip friendly. “You like fish and chips?” she asked.
I nodded, grinning. “Anything that involves French fries or potato chips is good to go by me. Why?”
“Because I work at Abby’s Fish House part time to help pay for my tuition. You come by some afternoon and I’ll fry you up the best batch of fish and chips you’ve ever tasted.”
As we scheduled a lunch date for next week, my cell phone rang. I held up one finger, mouthed an apology, and flipped open the phone. There was a hushed silence, and then I heard a faint whisper on the other end.
“Delilah, I need your help. This is Marion. I’m at the library. I think someone’s following me, and I’m afraid to go out to my car alone. I don’t want to ask somebody to walk with me in case it’s the Koyanni. They wouldn’t think twice about killing some innocent person trying to help.”
I’d assumed Marion was at the meeting, but when I thought back to the crowd inside, I realized that I hadn’t seen her all evening. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the Seattle Public Library on the Book Spiral. The library’s about to close in ten minutes and I’ll have to get out of here.”
I glanced at the clock. We weren’t far away. “Go down to the front desk and stay there. I’ll call Chase. If we don’t make it in time, he and his men should.”
Punching the End Talk button, I immediately speed-dialed Chase and asked him to send a car with two of his burliest Supe officers to the library to meet Marion. “We’re on the way.”
Waving to Neely and promising to see her in a week, I hurried into the meeting room and dragged Menolly and Camille out. “We have to head to the library. Now. Give Trillian your keys and he can follow with the guys if we need them. For now, let’s just see what we’re facing.”
We piled into my Jeep. Menolly followed in her Jaguar. We weren’t far from the library, and traffic was sparse. The lights were with me and we sped through the streets without having to stop. Within nine minutes, we were at the library. I saw a squad car parked out front.
As we headed up the sidewalk, we found Shamas and Yugi standing next to Marion by the front doors. The library proper had just closed and we could see librarians working inside, clearing up for the night.
“What’s going on, Marion?” I glanced around. The last of the patrons were exiting the building, and no one appeared to be paying much attention to us.
“I was up on the Book Spiral, browsing the stacks. I didn’t feel up to seeing a bunch of people tonight, so I didn’t go to the meeting. I don’t deal well with the whole condolences thing.” She bit her lip. “I knew people would be solicitous about Trixie, and I’m just not up to fielding sympathy tonight. You know?”
I nodded. Sometimes grief was hard enough to bear without all of the outpouring of empathy. “So you came to the library to get some peace.”
“Right. I was looking for a couple of travel books—I’ve been thinking about taking a vacation to the East Coast. Maine, maybe the Hamptons, though I’m not that thrilled by being around the upper-crust set. Go beachcombing…stay at a bed-and-breakfast, spend the nights reading, the days antiquing in small towns.”
She bit her lip and hung her head. “I’m telling Douglas that I want a divorce. We’ve grown our separate ways. The kids are out of the house; they don’t need us anymore. I need some me time, to just think about what I want to do the rest of my life.”
We had known Marion since we met her while helping out our friend Siobhan, but we didn’t know a lot about her home life. I wasn’t sure what to say. She seemed resigned, but not terribly unhappy.
“Okay, so what happened?”
“I was in the stacks. I began to feel like I was being watched. I started keeping an eye out—there were a couple of guys a ways behind me. One caught my attention—there was something familiar about him.” She looked at me. “You know how you can feel when you’re near another Were of your own kind?”
I nodded. There was an unexplainable feeling of recognition when I was around werecats—big or small. A sense of feline connectedness.
“It was like that. I swear he was a coyote shifter, and he felt dirty. I’m not sure about the other one. Anyway, I got nervous, took my books, and moved farther along the Spiral. After a little while, I glanced back and saw them again. This time, they were leaning against the wall, and the shaggy-haired one was still watching me. Right then, I sensed danger—he looked like a coyote watching a rabbit.” She shivered. “That’s when I called you.”
“What happened when you headed down to the first level? Did they follow you?” If they had been among those filing out of the building, we’d lost them.
“I don’t know. After I called you, I saw that the elevator was ready to open for an older woman and two other men who were waiting. So, I hurried in with them and pressed the Door Close button. By the time I got to the first floor, I couldn’t see them anywhere.” She folded her arms, rubbing her shoulders. “Something just didn’t feel right about them. I’m scared. I don’t scare easy.”
Camille leaned against the wall. “Do you know why they might be following you?”
“I don’t know…except…I’m the one who originally told you about the Koyanni. If they found that out, then they might be out for revenge.”
“Everything’s probably okay, but we’ll run you home just to make sure. Come on. Let’s go.” I motioned for Shamas and Yugi to follow us, giving them Marion’s address on the way out. Marion rode with me, while Camille went with Menolly. We left Camille’s car for the guys to drive home.
We were within two blocks when we heard the sirens. I sped up while Marion clutched her purse. She leaned forward as far as the seat belt would allow, trying to get a good view out the window, but it was so dark that all we could see were a few sparks flying up into the sky above the roofline.
As we pulled up toward her house, fire trucks came roaring in, sirens blasting, and I swerved to the side, letting them pass. Marion struggled with her seat belt, unfastening it and jumping out of the car before I could stop her. She raced down the street toward her house.
Menolly and Camille were parked behind me; they’d swung in right behind us. As I unbuckled my seat belt, Menolly streaked by, on the heels of Marion. Camille came running by as I hit the pavement and we followed. We passed two houses and then I skidded to a halt. The next house—Marion’s home—was blazing, flames shooting up into the air. The fire trucks were there but having a hard time controlling the blaze.
I glanced at Camille. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Sorcery? Yes. Shamas just pulled up. He can tell better than I can.” She hailed him as he and Yugi ran down the block to us. “Shamas—can you tell if those flames are magical? If so, we’ll need you to help calm them so the firefighters can put them out.”
“Douglas! Douglas! Are you in there?” Marion was hysterical, fighting to run toward the house, but Menolly was holding her back, her arms tight around Marion’s waist.
As Shamas headed toward the fire, I hurried over to help Menolly with Marion. She was struggling, trying to break free.
“My husband is in there—he took a sleeping pill. He always takes a sleeping pill!” She tried to break free again, but Menolly held on tight.
I shook her by the shoulders. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Downstairs—toward the back.”
I took a long look at the building. The fire was on one side so far, flames shooting out of the upper floor. I raced over to Shamas and grabbed him.
“Come with me. We’re going in to see if we can rescue her husband.” Ignoring the firefighters who shouted at us, we dodged our way in through the front door, which was standing open.
Shamas turned to me. “Let me go first, I can hold back the flames to a degree and hopefully, if they’re magical, calm them.” He moved into the front as I took the back.
Marion’s house was lovely—walls a pale shade of gold, trim dark brown. Décor was a mix of northwest and southwest Native American, with terra-cotta urns filled with pampas grass, Northwest art—wood burnings of Raven and Salmon, of the Great Trickster Coyote.
The smell of smoke was thick and beginning to drift down the stairs. Shamas motioned for me to move past him, toward the back of the building. He held up his hands and started up the stairs.
I raced down the hall, listening to the roar of the flames from the floor above. The timbers groaned and creaked, and I glanced at the ceiling. I could see soot marks—black. Only a few minutes and the flames would eat through and it would be too late to attempt a rescue.
I slammed open doors as I went and then stopped. A bedroom, and there was Douglas, asleep on the bed. I’d seen him once, at the diner, with Marion. He was sawing logs. And a cat was curled up on his stomach. I shut the door behind me so the cat couldn’t escape and glanced around the room. There was a laundry basket near me, with pillowcases and sheets in it. I grabbed one of the pillowcases and then, as the tabby woke up, I scruffed her and shoved her into the makeshift bag before the princess even knew what hit her. I tied the bag with a loose knot, setting it on the floor, then dragged Douglas out of bed and threw him over one shoulder.