God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords (26 page)

I would have known it for a Pack hangout even if half the customers and all of the restaurant’s staff hadn’t greeted Stacia by name.  First, there were the sidelong looks that
I
got as I trailed in after her.  Every one of those glances said
you don’t belong here—locals only.
  Then, there was the sniffing.  Either most of them wore fur when the moon was full or I had stumbled into a major cocaine den.  Honestly, the Malleks needed to spend some time coaching their people to act a bit more human and a little less like bloodhounds on a hot scent.

The part that threw me was that it was an Indian Thai fusion place, with a very simple name, Gita’s.

The staff seemed all of the same family, the women beautiful in the manner of Bollywood actresses, the males all lean and muscular.  Stacia knew every one of them, although their greetings ranged from effusive by the guys to a mixture of reserved and warm from the women.  By that, I mean it was obvious that some of the females liked her and a couple were blatantly jealous of the attention she got.

That seemed to be the same kind of reception that the customers gave her as well.  Men smiling, women mostly not.  I hadn’t realized that extraordinary looks might bring along a burden as well as grant its holder privileges.  The looks that
I
got, after it was clear that I was with her, were the opposite.  At least from the males.  Instant hostility.  The females were just speculative.

Indian music played in hidden speakers and the air smelled of curry and other spices.  The room was painted in bright reds and yellows, with Indian tapestries on several of the walls.

Stacia seemed comfortable with the greetings that were friendly and just ignored everyone else.  A woman came out of the back, seemingly just a bit older than the waitresses, and she smiled hugely at the sight of the blonde werewolf in front of me.

“Stacia dear, you have been avoiding us,” she admonished with a warm smile, grasping both of Stacia’s outstretched hands.

“No Gita, I’ve been very, very busy with work,” Stacia said.  Gita studied her for a moment before pulling her into a hug, her eyes now focused on me over Stacia’s shoulder.

She released Stacia and turned my way.  “Hi, I’m the work that’s been keeping her busy,” I said before either of them could speak.

“Gita, this is Declan.  He’s Chris and Tanya’s intern this summer,” Stacia said.  Around us, the conversations had quieted and I could almost feel the restaurant’s inhabitants listening from every part of the large room, not even attempting to hide their interest.

“Intern? What would
they
need with an intern?” Gita asked, eyes alight with intense curiosity.

Stacia quirked a grin in my direction, keeping quiet and leaving me on my own to answer her.

“Well, they sponsor my school, so you know, I guess they feel obligated to host a kid,” I said, trying to figure out what to say.

A definitely unfeminine snort sounded next to me, causing both Gita and I to glance at an amused Stacia.  Gita’s eyes lingered on Stacia for a moment before coming back to me. 

“School.  I believe they sponsor a school in Vermont,” she said, a furrow forming between her brows as she tried to solve the puzzle. 

“That’s the very one,” I said, nodding and wishing like hell that the amused blonde at my side would take over this painful conversation.

“You go to Arcane?” Gita asked tentatively.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you might know young Mr. Tinkelli over there?” she suggested, turning and pointing at a family of four seated in a corner booth who were watching us with undisguised interest.  The parents turned to the older of their two children, a male my age who was trying to hide behind his menu.  With that ploy obviously not working, Morgan Tinkelli met my eyes and offered a little wave.  I waved back.  “Hey Morgan,” I said, keeping my voice at the same speaking volume that we had been using.  He nodded, and I saw his lips form a “Hey Declan” although
I
couldn’t actually hear it.

“You are not one of us,” Gita stated, not unkindly.

“No ma’am.  I’m a different breed of kid,” I said.

“Gita, do you have room for us?” Stacia broke in, ending my immediate misery.  “We’ve been working hard today and we’re ravished.”

“Of course, dear,” Gita said, still studying me.  Then her manner turned businesslike and she led us to a small table near the back by the door I assumed was for the kitchen.  One of the younger girls came over, smiling at Stacia and looking me up and down curiously as she handed us menus.

When the same young girl came back to pour ice water, her mother came with her with a starter plate of chicken kabobs.  I ordered a chicken curry that seemed safe and Stacia ordered about four other dishes including basmati rice with peas, some kind of spiced potato balls, coconut battered shrimp, and pad thai noodles with beef.

“You like spicy?” she asked.

“We’re talking food, right?” I asked back.

“Hah, big talker.  Runs from little Aussie girls,” she said.

“Well, she and her friends blame me for the nasty effects of the bitters mixture they drank in the bar the other night.  If I run from her now, it’s because she’ll be waving a knife.”

“Shouldn’t she blame her boss, Tanya, for that?  You just played bartender, right?” she asked.

“You might think that, but it’s easier to blame the weird witch guy than the cool vampire boss who’s paying you lots of money.”

“That seems unfair,” she suggested, biting into a kabob with gleaming white teeth.

“Life is not renowned for fairness.  It honestly doesn’t bother me all that much.  I’m used to it from normals.  My friends at school would have seen it differently, so I’m not so worried about this group,” I said, chomping into my own skewer.  Instantly, a stream of heat bloomed in my mouth and throat, blossoming into an exquisite burn that sent my hand for the glass of ice water.

“Packs a punch, right?” she asked laughing.

“You could say that,” I gasped, then immediately took another bite.

She laughed again, chewing her own kabob without any outward sign of discomfort.

“I couldn’t eat this stuff before,” she said.  “Now I love it.”

I deciphered the
before
as in before the Change to being a werewolf.  “So how does this—” I waved a hand at the ambience “—fit in with the Pack?”

“Gita and her husband, Klahan, are both wolves.  They met overseas, maybe in Thailand; I’m not sure.  They chose to relocate to America and start their own restaurant.  As you can see, their children make up most of their staff.  It’s become a favorite hangout.”

“Okay, India has wolves, right?  But what about Thailand?” I asked.

“Not so much, but LV has spread in small amounts to most every country.  Klahan is a bitten wolf like me.  Gita was born to it,” she said.

“And Pack always mate with other wolves right?” I asked.

“Nope.  There’s not enough weres for that.  Wolves mate with whoever they pick, although staying within the species is highly encouraged.  Some of the couples here are mixed, were, and normal,” she said softly.

I realized we were still being monitored by the nosey wolves of her Pack.  Before I could change the subject, Gita appeared in the door of the kitchen and waved to Stacia to come to her.

“I’ll be right back.  Klahan probably wants to say hi and he’s the key to the kitchen, so he can’t come out,” she said, hopping up lithely and wending her way through the tables. “Maybe you want to say hi to your friend? Morgan, is it?”

I just waved and nodded, allowing her to disappear into the kitchen.  I knew Morgan a little but we weren’t what I would call friends.

I took the opportunity to snag another kabob.  No sooner had I bitten off a big chunk of particularly hot chicken than shadows fell across the table.

Two men stood staring at me, eyes very unfriendly and flashing a hint of yellow.  One was an inch shorter than me but wider and probably twenty pounds heavier, the other taller and
forty
or so pounds heavier.  Gulping down the chicken, I found my throat closing around the hot spices, requiring me to drink water quickly.

Appearing disadvantaged for any reason is a bad way to meet werewolves.  They perceive it as weakness and after that recalibrating, their perception of you is a bitch.

“Yeah,” I finally choked out.

“You would be smart to aim a great deal lower, sheep,” the bigger of the two said.  I had learned enough at school to understand the situation almost immediately.  Some weres use the term sheep for normal humans.  It’s not universal, and many weres find it uncomfortable if not outright offensive.  Oddly, it’s usually the bitten weres who fling it about.  These were unmated males who thought they had a shot with Stacia.

“You don’t really know her at all, do you?” I asked.  Looking back, I realize I could have said a great many other things, but what can I say?  Bullies bring out the bad in me.

“You are not one of us.  She is.  We’re giving you the benefit of a warning,” the smaller one said.

Necrosis genitalia,
Sorrow suggested.  That sounded pretty bad. 
Perhaps suppurating boils on the buttocks?
He offered. 

The restaurant had gone quiet and everyone was watching us.  From the corner of one eye, I could see our young waitress hurry into the kitchen.  Behind the two wolves, I could see my friend Morgan talking rapidly and urgently to his parents.  Morgan was aware of my feelings on bullies.  He was trying to get his family to leave.  That realization calmed me more than anything else.  This was
not
a place for me to respond as I might like.

“Great.  Good talk.  Consider the message delivered,” I said.

“What message would that be?” Stacia asked quietly from the kitchen doorway.

I waved a hand to the two wolves that the ball was in their court.

“You should not bring his kind here,” the larger one said. 

“Your name is Ty, right?” she asked.  He nodded.  “And you feel you can tell me who I can bring where?” she asked in a dangerous tone.  “Is this your place?” she asked.

The big one started to nod, but the smaller one elbowed him as Gita’s eyebrows rose.  “Really?  You will tell
me
who might come into
my
restaurant?” Gita asked, moving up to stand beside Stacia.

“This is a Pack place.  His kind don’t belong here,” the larger one said stubbornly and with mind-blowing stupidity.

“Kind?  What kind?” Stacia asked, almost a whisper.  Her eyes were bright yellow and she scratched one ear with a finger that had grown a claw.

The smaller one stepped back slightly, but the bigger one blundered on.  “Sheep.  He’s a sheep.”

Stacia froze, eyes wide.  Then she laughed.  It was the surprised laugh of someone truly taken off guard.

“Oh wow.
Are
you wrong.  How have you survived this long?” she asked.

“That’s a good question,” a deep voice said from the entrance to the restaurant.  Brock Mallek loomed in the opening, an attractive woman just in front of him and an adolescent boy at his side.  “Just how have you two managed to live this long?”

Both men instantly cowered in place, shoulders slumping and heads falling forward in submission.  “Alpha, we didn’t know you were there,” the smaller one said.

“You obviously don’t know much, Scott.  You don’t know whose restaurant you are standing in, telling patrons to leave.  You don’t know Stacia at all if you think bullying her friends is the key to her heart.  And you’ve made a spectacularly bad choice of people to threaten,” Brock said.