Tooth and Claw (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 2) (6 page)

“You should just give him the girl and forget about her,”
Tomas said, scowling at me. “What do you think will happen now? He’ll just go
out and find another victim.”

“It’s true. I will. Eeep!” The vampire slapped his hands
over his mouth and looked at me in horror. I guess the truth compulsion was
still working.

I had known that Tomas was right, even before the creep
admitted it. If we didn’t do something to prevent it, the greaseball would
just go out and find another girl or girls.

“Perhaps we could castrate him?” Salvador asked as if he was
wondering if we should have tea. “Isn’t that what the
civilized
humans
do to pedophiles?” As if humans couldn’t be just as barbaric as vampires. No
offense. “And we could pull out his fangs so that he can no longer feed,” he
added gleefully. It was all just a game to him.

“I call challenge.” This came from the greaseball, quiet
at first, but then as the realization struck him, he shouted it. “I call
challenge! It is my right.”

Salvador sighed as if bored, but his eyes had a cold
calculating look. “Yes, of course. It is.”

“Challenge, what’s challenge?” I asked. The crowd had begun
to murmur in excitement.

“Any accused vampire has a right to challenge their accuser
and decide his or her own fate,” Tomas replied a slight smile on his face.

“You mean me? He’s challenging me?”

“You did accuse him of being a pedophile.”

I looked at Salvador. He shrugged as if to say it was my
choice, but his eyes were eager. He wanted this. For all I knew, he had
planned the whole thing.

“What happens if I don’t accept the challenge?”

“Then he will be free to do as he pleases and take another
girl I suppose,” Salvador replied unconcerned.

Fucking wonderful.

“Fine. I’ll do it. When?”

“Why, no time like the present,” Salvador replied.

I looked down at my new dress. Of course it would be now. Fantastic.
“Great. Let’s get it over with.” As I passed Salvador on the stage, I added,
“This totally counts as dinner, even if we didn’t eat.”

Salvador smiled, “But of course, Harry. Of course.”

I stepped down from the dais. The crowd edged closer,
packing together to ring us in. There was a commotion to one side and I saw
Isaac. He had a hand on Nash’s arm and was speaking quietly but urgently to
Nash. I suspected he was probably saying something like Nash couldn’t
interfere and I had to take care of the situation myself. Isaac had seen me
train. He knew I could fight. It was Nash’s problem if he still thought I was
totally helpless.

I kicked my shoes off and drew my katana. The crowd
gasped. Obviously the no-see-me spell had done its job. No one had realized I
was armed.

“Why Harry, you are just full of surprises,” Salvador said.
He was enjoying the show.

The two guard vamps stepped away from the greaseball, who
was now looking a little less sure of himself.

I turned back to Salvador and asked, “What happens if I kill
him?” I really didn’t see any other way out of this whole mess
without
killing him.

“Why you had better, Harry, because he will most certainly be
trying to kill you.”

I turned and faced the vampire. He was standing about twenty
feet from me. He snarled, his fangs descending. His fingernails had grown
into claws. He didn’t look like the greasy, butterball he had before. Now he
looked like a predator.

I took a guarded stance, holding my blade in my right hand.
The vampire hissed at me again and then lunged, closing the distance between us
with supernatural speed. I ran towards him. As we neared one another, he
launched himself in the air in order to pounce on me and take me to the
ground. Instead, I fell to the floor, sliding under him like a baseball player
sliding into home. I’m sure the whole crowd had a great view of my panties,
not to mention the fact that I was wearing stockings, but I didn’t have time to
worry about that. The vampire flew over top of me with a snarl, landing with
his back to me. I recovered from my slide and rushed towards him, my blade
held in a two handed grip, high above my head. In one quick sweeping motion, I
brought the blade down. The vampire had been in mid-turn to face me and he
froze with a surprised look on his face. Everything seemed to freeze in fact,
like some sort of horror movie tableau. The crowd had various expressions from
blood-thirsty, to shock and disappointment. Salvador looked on in mild
amusement, but his dark eyes glittered with something more. I stood with my
katana at the ready, blood dripping from it. The vampire’s lifeless body
crumpled to the floor in what felt like slow-motion, his now detached head
tipping off his neck and rolling a few feet away. Arterial spray - contrary to
what you may believe, vampires do bleed - had splashed across the crowd and
me. Great another dress ruined. And then time sped up and the crowd
fell utterly silent.

“Are we done here?” I asked quietly.

“It appears the matter has been settled,” Salvador replied.
“Well done, Harry. Well done.”

I turned my back on him. I didn’t want his praise. I bent
down and tore the sleeve off the vampire’s shirt, using it to clean the blood
off my blade before slipping it back into the scabbard.

There was another little commotion and one of the vampires
that had taken the girl away to get medical care approached the dais.

“I’m afraid the girl is dead, my lord. She became crazed a
few minutes ago and took her own life.” He looked down at the decapitated
vampire, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Ah, that is a shame,” Salvador replied, “but perhaps not a
surprise in a case such as this.”

I felt totally numb at the news. I had to get out of
there. “I’m going home,” I said to no one in particular.

Isaac met me at the limo, but was thankfully silent on the
ride home. He had thought to grab my shoes off the floor. I’d be happy about
that later, they were one of my favourite pairs. Henry had done a bit of
double-take when he saw me approach, splattered in blood, but he had obviously
worked for Salvador long enough that he knew better than to ask questions.

Tess was there when we arrived home. She took one look and
rushed over to me. “Omigod! Harry! What the hell happened to you?”

“I need a shower,” I said numbly. I set my katana on the
table. I’d have to clean it later. I really needed a shower.

Ignoring Tess’s questions, I climbed the stairs to my room.
I could hear her speaking to Isaac, who must have been filling her in on the
evening’s festivities. I caught some of what they were saying, but I tuned
them out.

“….challenged…”

“…must be in shock….”

I don’t know how long I had been standing in the shower. I
had scrubbed and scrubbed my skin red, but I still felt dirty. I stood under the
near to boiling water, sobs wracking my body as I gulped for air, trying not to
hyperventilate. Suddenly the door was pulled open, letting in a rush of cold
air. I was so numb, it didn’t really even surprise me to see Nash standing
there. He reached in and turned off the water, wrapping me in a big, fluffy
towel. I pushed at him, my hands balling into fists.

“Go away. You shouldn’t be here. You have no right to be
here.” I pounded half-heartedly at his chest, tears running down my cheeks.

He scooped me up in his arms, towel and all, and carried me
to the bedroom. “Shut up, Harry,” he growled. He dropped me onto my bed - I
hadn’t made it that morning so the covers were already pushed back - and I
curled into a ball. The bed creaked as Nash climbed in beside me, spooning
himself around me, wrapping me in his arms and pulling the covers over us.

“No, go away,” I protested weakly. “Just leave me alone.”

“Shh, Harry. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered into my
wet hair. He took a deep breath. I don’t know if it was me that he was trying
to convince or himself. Or maybe it was his wolf.

“I’m not okay,” I sobbed. “I killed a man and I don’t even
know his name. And the girl, the girl is dead anyway. It was all for nothing.”

“Shh, shh. Hush now, little minx.” He tightened his arms
around me, pulling me in close against his chest. I could feel his heart
beating steadily. His breathing was slow and calm, a contrast to my sobbing,
gulping attempts to breathe. “You did what you had to do Harry. It’s all right.”

No it wasn’t. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever
be the same again. I lay in his arms wondering just who or what I was becoming.

I slept fitfully. My sleep ravaged by dreams. Surprisingly,
my nightmares weren’t filled with vampires. Instead, they were the same wolf
dreams I had the night before. Each time I found myself whimpering and
thrashing about from the dream, strong arms would pull me close, calming words
murmuring in my hair. Sometime in the night, Nash had lost most of his clothes
and was down to just his boxer briefs. The towel that had once been wrapped
around me was somewhere in a ball at the bottom of the bed. For two people
that kept denying that they wanted to have sex, we sure spent a lot of time
naked or close to it, together in bed.

“Why do you smell like a wolf?” Nash’s voice was rough with
sleep.

“Uh, duh, there’s a wolf in my bed.” I rolled over to face
Nash, pulling the covers around me like a shroud.

“No, you smell like a different wolf. A strange wolf.”
Nash propped his head up with his hand and looked down at me. He took a deep
breath and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

I sat up, pulling the covers with me and gave him a swat on
the arm. “Would you knock it off? The only wolf here is…” I stopped in
surprise. There was a wolf sitting in the corner of my room. It looked at me,
its tongue lolling out of its mouth, as if it was panting. “Uh, there’s a wolf
in my room.”

“Very funny.”

“No, I mean there really is another wolf in my room.” I
pointed to the corner of the room where the wolf had risen to its feet. “It’s
right there.”

“There’s nothing there Harry.”

“What? You can’t see it? Then that means…” I had never
encountered an
animal
ghost before. I tracked the wolf as it began to
pace back and forth at the foot of the bed. Unlike most human ghosts I had
seen, this one was solid. There was no translucency to it at all. It looked alive;
I never would have guessed it was a ghost.

“You really see something there? A wolf?” Nash had sat up
again and he was watching me curiously.

“Yes, there’s a wolf. A ghost wolf. Why would I be seeing
a ghost wolf? Ghosts are people, I don’t see animal ghosts.” I was babbling
now.

“What does it look like? Tell me.” Nash grabbed my arm and
then pulled his hand away as if burnt. “What the..!” He stared at the foot of
the bed in surprise. He grabbed my arm again. “Unbelievable.”

“What? Do you see it too?”

Nash let go of my arm and then grabbed it again. “Whoa! That’s amazing.
I can see the wolf sitting at the end of the bed. It only works when I’m touching you though.”

Well, that was a new one. Now I was like a ghost
projector. Oh joy. I looked over at the ghost wolf. I was pretty sure it was
the same one that I had seen the other day outside the shop. It was definitely
the wolf that had been in my dreams. I mean it was the wolf I
became
in my
dreams. There had been other wolves there as well, but it was this wolf’s
memories I seemed to be reliving. The wolf stood, turning to stare at Nash.
It tipped its head back and howled, then blinked out of existence.

***

I filled Nash in about the dreams I had been having over breakfast.
We seemed to be getting past the ‘morning-after-we-didn’t-have-sex-but-slept-together’ awkwardness. In fact, it
felt rather comfortable. Practice makes perfect, I guess.

Breakfast was nothing fancy, just cereal and some freshly
baked cinnamon buns, courtesy of some late night baking by Isaac no doubt.

My katana had been thoroughly cleaned and was hanging back
on its hook by the door. I wasn’t sure who to thank for that, but I suspected
Tess was responsible.

“So I was thinking I should go to this Jonathan Turner’s
funeral. Maybe I could learn something that could help you out. Do you think
the wolf disappearances and the mysterious deaths are connected?”

Nash grunted as he tipped his cereal bowl to his lips and
slurped the last of the milk from the bowl. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he
admitted grudgingly. He still didn’t want me poking my nose into police
business, despite the fact that I could possibly help him. Trying to get
information out of him was like getting water from a stone. I had managed to
learn that besides Matt and Tank, at least five other werewolves had
disappeared. “There’s no need for you to go to that funeral today. You should
just stay out of it Harry.”

“Look, I have a job to do too, you know. If I go to that
funeral it’s really none of your concern.” I grabbed his empty bowl and put it
in the sink. “Besides, I think I can help. The missing werewolves, the dead
men, my dreams, they all have to be connected somehow. I’m
supposed
to
help. Why else would I suddenly be haunted by a ghost wolf? It’s too much to
be a coincidence.”

“We don’t know that there is a connection yet. You should
just butt out Harry. It could be dangerous.”

“Like the rest of my life isn’t,” I muttered, earning
a scowl from Nash.

“I mean it Harry, you could get hurt.”

“Why Nash, I would almost think you cared.”

“Leave it be, Harry,” Nash grumbled. He grabbed his coat
from the back of the couch. “I have to get to the office. I guess since I
can’t stop you, I’ll see you at the funeral later today.” He stopped in the
doorway and looked back at me. “Try and stay out of trouble,” he said and then
he shook his head, as if he knew he was asking too much.

***

My day improved immensely when I went downstairs to the
shop. Mrs. P had everything well in hand and all the deliveries and the
funeral flowers were finished. Or, I should say, that Mrs. P and her niece,
Tiffy, had everything well in hand.

Tiffy was not what I had expected at all, although I really
couldn’t tell you what I
had
expected. She was tall and slender to the
point of being skeletal. She almost had a bird-like quality about her, from
her somewhat beaky nose to her long, stork-like legs and gangly arms. Her head
was crowned with a long mane of curly, red hair that unfortunately seemed to
have frizzed out everywhere. She was shy and awkward and prone to freeze like
a deer in headlights any time I spoke to her. Several times, she
disappeared into the back room with a squeak when someone passed by outside on
the street. She also had a disconcerting habit of changing the shape of her
ears. I think she was still getting the knack of making her ears look more
human - less pointy and more rounded - because they kept reverting back to her pointy
Fae ears every few minutes.

“Ears, dear,” Mrs. P gently reminded Tiffy for the umpteenth
time.

“Eep!” That was mostly what Tiffy said any time anyone
spoke to her. Mrs. P wasn’t exaggerating when she said Tiffy was shy.

Despite having zero people skills, Tiffy was an industrious
worker. She watched, fascinated, as I showed her how to use the cash register
and the credit card machine, and she had polished and shined every surface in
the store several times. Even if she never got the hang of waiting on
customers, she had more than made up for it with all her hard work, especially
next door in the soon to be coffee shop. I was totally amazed. Yesterday it
had been a jumbled mess of leftover store fixtures and the detritus of two
previous failed businesses, both before my time. Today it was spotless. The
junk was gone, I don’t know where. The walls and floors positively sparkled
they were so clean. With the space now empty, I had a much easier time
imagining its potential. I was so amazed at the transformation, I almost
blundered and thanked Mrs. P and Tiffy.

“Wow! I can’t believe how great it looks. It’s amazing.
Than...uh...I mean that’s incredible.” I held out the plate of cinnamon buns I
had brought down for Mrs. P. “Isaac made cinnamon buns.”

Mrs. P snatched the plate from me with a smile. “Why these
look delicious. Tiffy, try a cinnamon bun.”

Tiffy sniffed at the plate and looked down at Mrs. P who
nodded encouragingly. She took a bun in her twig-like fingers and tore off a
little piece to stick in her mouth. “Eep!” she said, tearing more off the bun
and shoving it in her mouth. She grabbed another bun and scuttled into the
back room.

“I guess she liked them,” I said with a laugh.

Mrs. P shook her head. “I’m sorry Harry. She’s been very
sheltered. She’s my brother’s youngest child, the baby of the family.” She
leaned over and whispered behind her hand, “He married a Bogle, don’t you
know.” She straightened up, pulling at the hem of her top and cleared her
throat. “Ahem, well, at any rate, Tiffy has been indulged too long.”

A Bogle? I guess that explained Tiffy’s skeletal like
appearance. Bogles are often depicted as scarecrows. “It’s not a problem,” I
said. “I’m happy we can help with her, uh, education.”

***

I cut it close getting my deliveries to the funeral on
time. I was late because I had a bit of a wardrobe dilemma. Normally I would
have just worn what I called my funeral suit, but I had worn it the other day
and Nash had already seen it. I know, I know, it shouldn’t have mattered what
Nash thought. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed, he is a guy after all,
but I guess I’m just vain enough that it mattered to me. You can read into
that whatever you want. I fully admit to lusting after Nash, but just because
the man made me all hot and bothered, didn’t mean that it was a good idea. Of
course, that didn’t stop me from picking out a snug fitting, black dress that hugged
my curves and had a cut-out detail across the shoulders that looked rather
sexy. Its full length sleeves and just-above-the-knee length gave it just the
right amount of modesty making it suitable for a funeral.

Despite my tardiness, I had the floral arrangements set up
at the front of the church well before the first mourners arrived. There
wouldn’t be a casket, since Jonathan had been cremated, so I wasn’t sure where
I might find his ghost, that is, if it was even anywhere to be found. There
was no guarantee that it hadn’t already left this plane for another.

If Jonathan did appear, he’d most likely be haunting his
family or closest friends. I figured a seat at the back of the church would
give me the best vantage point, so I found myself a discreet yet well
positioned spot in the last pew.

Jonathan Turner had been a popular guy judging from the
turnout at his funeral. It looked like half the college student population was
in attendance, with the representation skewed to the female half.

When a ghost finally showed up, it wasn’t the one I had been
expecting. Instead, the large, grey ghost wolf padded up the church aisle. Before
I could ponder what his presence might mean, Nash arrived.

Nash’s appearance sent the female college contingent into a
tizzy. Across the entire congregation, small pockets of girls sitting together
in two’s and three’s erupted into frantic whispers and hushed giggles as they craned
their necks to catch glimpses of him as he stalked up and down the aisle. I
can’t say as I blame them; Nash did cut a damn fine figure in his charcoal suit.
His aquiline nose and distinctive cheekbones, combined with his perpetual five
o’clock shadow, gave him that handsome rogue look. I’m sure if he had turned
his attention to one of the college girls and smiled at them, they would have
fainted on the spot. Instead, his eyes met mine, and the look he gave me was less
smile, more mild annoyance. Needless to say, I didn’t feel faint.

He crossed the church and sat beside me, forcing me to scoot
over to make room for him on the bench seat. I’m pretty sure he took perverse
pleasure in making me uncomfortable, sitting so close that I found myself
squished up against the side of the pew trying to keep our thighs from
touching.

“So,” he leaned in close and whispered, “is
he
here?”

“No, I don’t see him. I don’t think he’s here,” I replied.

“Then why are
you
still here?”

“Because there
is
an unexpected visitor.”

“What are you talking about?” The service was about to
begin and Nash frowned, impatient for an answer.

Not wanting to disturb anyone around us, I grabbed his hand
and looked over to where the ghost wolf was pacing at the front of the church.
Nash followed my gaze.

“What’s…” he started to say, then grimaced looking around in
apology. “What’s he doing here?” he continued in a whisper.

I shrugged and pulled my hand from Nash’s. Holding his hand
was making me feel all warm and tingly, which in turn was just making me feel
uncomfortable.

The service, being Protestant this time instead of Catholic,
was mercifully shorter. I spent the majority of the service just watching the
wolf. He had paced about at the front of the church for some time, before
taking to roaming up and down the aisles. Twice he stopped at a particular pew
and stared down the row of people who were all oblivious to him.

“What is he doing? Nash hissed at me and grabbed for my hand
where I had it folded in my lap.

I pulled my hands away with a scowl. “Nothing. You don’t
need to see,” I hissed back.