A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing (17 page)

“Nice and logical. I like that, boys. I’ll get Agnes to call Dr. Hackenbush—don’t tell her I called him that—and ask. Too bad about the medication, though. I haven’t sneezed once tonight.” He headed down the steps, the felines hot on his heels. He told them, “I really don’t want to resort to needles, so I might have to stoop to giving you lads a bath with a dandruff shampoo.”

The cats exchanged horrified looks, as if they understood what he was threatening. They were cute, he had to admit. He’d never had a pet growing up—one of those silly, childhood things lost because of being poor. Still, like any young boy he’d wished for one. Even after Des started bringing in enough money, they’d relocated too often. Never in any place longer than a year before their mother grew fearful and suspicious, she’d move them, simply to find a temporary peace of mind.

“Poor bewildered Mum.”

Trev sighed sadly, and then headed to the kitchen. Without too much effort he found kitty treats in one cupboard. Unsure about how many to give the cats, he glanced at the label to read the instructions. “Hmmm, funny…my eyes are sharp enough to read print. You’d think they’d have instructions on how many are okay to feed you wee people in cat suits. I don’t want Raven mad at me for overdosing you on Armitage Good Girl Catnip Drops. What? Don’t they make Good Boy Catnip Drops, or is that some female prejudice against toms?” He looked at the cats. “Hmmm,
are
you toms, or did Raven have you mutilated?”

Pyewacket and Chester glanced at each other, almost in question. When Trev rattled the tin, they stood dancing on their hind legs, however, so he shook out six pieces each and put those in their bowls.

The pussycats soothed for the moment, Trev removed a glass from the dish rack in one side of the double sink and took the lemonade from the refrigerator. He was thirsty, drank half a glass in nearly one swallow. Tart and
sweet, he enjoyed the juice. Lemonade was another of those luxuries missing from his childhood. He recalled a kid down the street opening a stand. Trev had wanted a glass of that lemonade; it looked so cool in that glass filled with crushed ice. Pitifully, at the time he hadn’t been able to afford it.

“Ah, well, times change.” He refilled his glass and strolled back into the main part of the house.

Having inhaled their treats, both cats fell into step behind him. When he stopped, they rushed forward and rubbed against his legs. “Oh, perfect. I feed you goodies and now I’m the middle of a cat sandwich. Well, they do say no good deed goes unpunished.”

He liked Raven’s home. It was small and modest compared to where she was born, yet he didn’t feel like a stranger here. Odd, yes, but the house seemed to welcome his presence, as if he belonged. He was even coming to like her eclectic companions.

Padding into the large greenhouse, he stood watching the pale pink light of day struggle to punch through the surrounding mist. Too fine to be rain, a spray fell silently on the glass overhead, streaking along the incline and down the clear walls. Nothing disturbed the dawn’s quietude, save the faint moan of the wind through the half bare branches and the shrubbery rustling against the side of the house.

Trev stood sipping the lemonade and enjoying the tranquil moment. In a bit, he would wake Raven and share this peaceful beauty with her, but for now he was content to watch the sunrise. Questions swirled in his mind. Not having any answers, he did his best to ignore them.

Chester sat down and leaned against Trev’s right ankle, while Pyewacket playfully pounced upon his pal’s orange striped tail.

Something jabbed his left foot. Hard. Trev winced. “Good morning, Atticus.” The bird made some sort of strangled noise and then pecked at his toes. “I think I
need to invest in a pair of snakebite-proof boots to be around you.”

Trev set his glass on a table and dodged Raven’s menagerie to walk to the fortune-teller’s booth. Shoving his hand in his pants pocket, he came out with a coin to drop in the slot. So lifelike it was disturbing, the carved mannequin again closed her eyes and tilted her head back and forth while her hands made passes over the glowing ball. While he watched Trev muttered, “Tell me, what must I do to solve this mess before it’s too late?”

He felt utterly silly for asking a clockwork doll for the answers. Deep down he knew what he would have to do. It would mean choosing between Raven and Des.

Des was everything to him—best friend, brother, father, hero. Des had dedicated his life to seeing his twin brothers had the best of everything, had worked a man’s job when he was little more than a teen. Despite their mother’s best efforts, they wouldn’t have survived as a family if not for Desmond. They owed Des so much.

Yet, to have Raven in his life Trev would have to betray him.

The box clacked, clicked, and the Gypsy’s eyelids popped open. Almost breathless, Trev felt as if he stared into Raven’s eyes. The long tarot card ejected into the slot, and he reached for it with a touch of trepidation. The card was The Fool.

“I really need to get a book on tarot divination,” he told Raven’s critters, who were hovering about his feet.

Turning the card over, he read on the back:

Risk, danger and sorrow come on the heels of deceit, when one selfishly fails to heed what he can see.

Though he would welcome the comfort, somehow he didn’t think Raven’s brothers had stacked this deck. He flipped back to the face of the card, and studied the man in brightly colored clothes, blithely moving through
life…and about to walk right off a cliff, too stupid to foresee it.

He glared at the Gypsy. “I do believe you’re calling me a bloody fool. This is the third time this morning. Once in a dream, then by a ghost, and now by a wooden fortuneteller. You’d think…”

His words died out as something stirred outside, big as a man, dark, and heading toward the front of the house. Trev exhaled and told the animals, “Here we go again. Rod Serling time.”

Hurrying to the front door, he was in time to spot the shadow skirting past toward the far corner of the house. Not hesitating, Trev almost ran to the smaller greenhouse on the opposite side of the living room. As he opened the inner door, he was just able to see the person zooming along the glass wall and then out of sight, rounding another corner where tall, columnar cedar trees blocked his view. Scurrying by a huge canvas on an easel, Trev reached the door just as the person disappeared in the direction of the barn.

Still barefoot, Trev didn’t slow but jerked open the paned door and followed. There was no flash of red this time, but clearly someone was nearby. What the bloody hell was going on? Last night, he had assumed it had been Raven in the garden and had followed her to the Gypsy camp. She’d insisted that wasn’t the case. Now someone was lurking about the property in the predawn hours, and he was going to find out who!

Since Raven had put the pony up last night before going to the Gypsy camp, someone had opened the barn door. It creaked, moved by a breeze as he drew near. Trev approached with slow steps and then halted outside, watching the wooden door rocking back and forth, half expecting someone to jump out when he placed a hand on the wood. He waited a full minute, yet there was no sound. The morning air was chilly and wet, the mist collecting on his bare chest and back. It was too cool to be
out running around without a shirt; nonetheless, he wasn’t going to take the time to go back to the house.

Cautiously, he pulled the door back and stood poised at the barn entrance, straining to catch even the slightest noise. When all remained quiet, he continued on, pausing to feel for the light switch he’d seen Raven use the night he’d spied on her.

It was an intense light but just a single naked bulb, and it cast a harsh brilliance across the center of the stable that failed to reach the stalls on either side, stairs leading to the loft, or the old horse-drawn sleigh like he’d seen in Currier & Ives drawings. These cast inky shadows, twisting into odd, confusing shapes that increased Trev’s trepidation.

The pony was curled up in the corner of his stall, but stirred and gave a soft nicker when Trev neared the slatted door. He liked to ride, but didn’t find the time often. Maybe he’d make time; this was something Raven and he could do some sunny afternoon. He considered if Marvin might like to tag along, but figured those short legs probably lacked the “horsepower” to keep up. He started to share that joke with the tiny pony, but then a board overhead creaked as if someone’s weight shifted.

Trev looked around for something to use as a club. He was fully trained in savate, and frequently sparred with Julian to keep in shape; Des knew Mershan International often required his brothers to be in unsafe corners of the world, so he’d had Julian teach them the martial art. Despite this, Trev remained uneasy with such a situation. Something in his hands would lend him a greater sense of control. A pitchfork rested against one stall, but he dismissed it. He doubted that he had the stomach to wield it as a weapon.

Glancing up, he moved to the flying staircase that went straight to the loft. At the bottom he stopped once more, waiting to see if he could detect stirring. Pretending he didn’t suspect someone was hiding in the loft, he walked
past the stairs and toward the tack room. As he stood beneath the planked floor, bits of straw floated down from between the cracks overhead.

Swinging around, he grabbed the staircase railing and vaulted over it to land on the steps.

Heavy footfalls sounded, pounding across the loft floor, and then there was the loud crash of the loft doors being flung open. Next came the sound of the heavy hay pulley bearing weight on its rope as someone used it for a quick descent.

Switching directions, Trev dashed for the front of the barn. He reached the closing doors just a second too late, and to hear the wooden bar across the doors slammed into place. He rammed his bare shoulder against it, but while the double doors rocked they didn’t give.

“Bloody blue blazes,” he growled. He could try to shatter the crossbar with a kick, but he wasn’t sure the wood would break.

Recalling Raven had used a small door to the side on that first night, he hastened around the stall where Marvin was housed and found the door just beyond. He pushed through, but immediately stepped on a sharp object that cut into the ball of his bare foot. Hopping on the other foot, he cursed and made sure nothing was embedded.

The loud scream of his Lamborghini’s burglar alarm was going off on the other side of the house, shattering the stillness of the dawn. Ignoring the stinging pain of his injured foot, Trev followed the racket. As he passed, the front door opened and Raven came out, belting her robe. She frowned. “Trevelyn, what’s going on?”

“Go back inside. Now!” he barked. Without slowing, he continued on toward the car where it was parked behind Raven’s red MGB.

The alarm was screeching, but no one was around. As Trev approached, it was obvious the car rested on four flat tires. As well, it looked as if someone had taken
a set of keys and scored the whole side, ruining the paint job.

Fishing in his pocket, Trev pulled out the key ring with the remote control to silence the irritating Gallardo car alarm. Then he walked around the vehicle, looking at the tracks in the wet grass. The footprints moved up to the car, circled around, and then led away. Trev followed them to the driveway entrance. Looking in both directions, he tried to get a fix on which way the intruder had gone, but the roadway was so broken and crumbly it was impossible to tell.

“Trevelyn, what’s happened to your car?”

He turned to see Raven standing by the black roadster, her face ashen as she surveyed the damage. Giving up his chase, Trev stalked back. “Bloody woman. I ordered you back inside.”

“You’ll find, Trevelyn Sinclair, I don’t take orders well.”

“In an instance like this—owww!” His tirade was cut short as he stepped on a large stone precisely where his foot was cut. Cursing under his breath, he put a hand on her shoulder for balance. When he looked up, Atticus was hopping ironically toward them. “Double damn. Bet he’s happy now. I’m on one foot, too,” he teased.

“Trevelyn. What just happened?” Raven pressed.

He glanced around, not convinced the intruder was gone. Too vividly he recalled how he’d tracked her that first night, hidden behind the oak trees and stood close enough to reach out and touch her. Well, her safe bubble was no longer safe. Right away, he’d get with Julian and discuss what safety measure could be taken without rattling her too much.

“Let’s get inside before Bird-Brain decides to peck at my remaining good foot.”

“Can you walk?” Raven asked.

He nodded. “Let me use you for balance, then I can hobble on just the heel.”

Taking a cue from him, she remained silent until they
were inside and she’d closed the door. “Come, I need to soak that foot and get the dirt out.” As they went through to the kitchen, she stopped and broke into a peal of laughter.

Halting, Trev frowned at her. “It’s not nice to laugh at another’s injury, no matter how much an idiot you think I am for running around barefoot outside.”

“Sorry—I’m not. Really. It’s just watching you and Atticus is quite amusing. You hop a step. Then he hops a step.” The chuckles came again. Raven pulled a stool from the corner and pointed. “Sit.”

“Me or the bird?” Trev asked. “You will find, Raven Montgomerie, that I don’t take orders well, either.”

That said, Trev sat, watching Raven gather a deep rubber pan, place several things in it and pick that up along with a roll of paper towel. She knelt before him and placed his injured foot in the tub, then poured half a bottle of peroxide over his foot. As the fluid trickled off and filled the pan, she picked up a thing that looked like a huge eyedropper.

“What the hell is that?” It reminded him too much of that damn needle and syringe they used for the gamma globulin shot.

She eyed him knowingly and smiled. “It’s a turkeybaster. I’m going to use it to flood the cut, to force dirt out of the wound.”

Atticus pecked at Trev’s other foot and then twisted his head sideways, looking at him.