Nimravid (The MacFade Chronicles Book 1) Page 9
“Aw, man,” came a whine from the general direction of the front door. I went into the bedroom and got dressed, nothing fancy just blue jeans and black button up shirt, blue denim jacket with an elaborate dragon embroidered on the back and a sturdy pair of leather boots.
“Lucy…Charles… I’m going out. You two be good for Shelly if she comes over.” Lucy came trotting into the living room as I was pulling on my boots and jumped up on the arm of the chair. “Lucy always good. Lucy go for ride?” She set her tail to wagging at full tilt. “No Lucy. I’m riding the noisy beast today. (aka Kawasaki) We’ll go for a ride in the Hummer later.” Her tail stopped wagging so furiously. “OK.” She stood up on her hind legs to lick my face, a kiss goodbye. “Lucy love Alex. Alex be safe, come back soon.” I reached over and scratched behind her ears. “I will Lucy, love you too.” I looked around and Charles was back on the window sill, talking to the birds. “Any luck, Charles?”
He yawned, stretched and licked his left paw using the moisture to clean the top of his bushy head. “Alas no,” he sighed. “I do so enjoy it when they smack into the glass. I will ensure the idiotic canine does not expire in your absence, at least not by her own doing.” He went back to his bird calls.
Rolling the Kawasaki out of my garage, I checked the fuel level by sloshing the tank from side to side between my legs. I sensed Mai become tense. “We’re being watched.”
“By who?” I could feel her Focus harder on the source. “I can’t tell. They must be using a really good Shroud or they are nothing I’ve ever encountered before. Oh! They must have sensed my probe. They’re retreating.” I shrugged. “Retreating, that’s a good sign, no guts, not much to worry about if they are running from a simple probe.”
“Let’s hope so. I’m more concerned about if they are here for us or someone else. The house should be virtually undetectable, right now.”
“Yes, but my name isn’t. After the ruckus this morning, Dominic’s pig headed enough to come after me tonight. Maybe we should swing by The Club after we talk to the chief, just to make sure Shauna’s OK.”
“Mmmm hmmm.” Mai’s tone was skeptical. “Only the purest of intentions, Mai.” I accelerated up the street. It was going to be a long ass day.
Chapter 9
I just do enough locksmith/security consulting to throw the IRS off. If you’re only bringing in $15,000 a year, it’s hard to explain the house, the bike and the Hummer in the garage. All of which you pay taxes on, every year, in Missouri. So I do jobs around the neighborhood, change locks, open doors, cut keys and fix antique coffee grinders. Caught that did you? What do antique coffee grinders have to do with locks and security? The answer to that is simple, not a bloody thing.
Michelle Eva Thompson (aka Shelly), daughter of Randy and Catherine Thompson, my house/pet sitter, came to me around a year ago. I reckon that made her a little over 13, at the time. She was in trouble, as usual. She’s a cute little Thai girl, adopted by my Caucasian neighbors on my north side; the typical girl next door, sweet, trusting and 150% off limits—to everyone. A good reliable sitter is hard to come by and mine is worth her weight in gold. Granted that’s only about 86 pounds, but still. Lucy and Charles adore her. Charles is actually cooperative with her, little bastard; he does it just to annoy me.
Shelly’s parents, Cathy and Randy Thompson, had gone out of town for the weekend and Shelly hosted the obligatory party. I’ll give her credit, kept the number down to 15 or 20. Apparently during the course of the festivities, one of Shelly’s idiots, I mean friends, was running around with one of her father’s prized antique coffee grinders, pretending it was a Gatling gun. He tripped at some point, naturally, I suspect over his own drunken feet and the grinder went tumbling down the basement stairs. It was a cast iron work of art so it took the fall pretty well, but not unscathed.
Shelly came to me because she knew I was a locksmith and in her mind that equated mechanical ability. She didn’t know about my degree in engineering, yet. Before that, I frequently encountered her around the neighborhood and we had talked casually across the fence. She would always stop and ask to pet Lucy, to which Lucy always enthusiastically consented. We had hit it off almost immediately. Even when she was 10, she was a very perceptive child and we just had a natural affinity for each other. Eventually, she more or less became my little sister.
This particular morning she was desperate and more than a little frantic when she wrestled the big machine onto my back step at, 7 am. I reckon she had just woken from her stupor and realized the damage; suffering horribly, from what was probably her first hang over. Her parents were due back the next night and she had no idea how or where to go, to fix the grinder. I, like a moron, told her I would take care of it.
Opening the kitchen door for her, I invited her in. “Leave it there Ms. Thompson. Have a seat at the table. I’ll be in, in a few minutes.” I austerely examined the battered machine. It was a fine piece, at one time. This wasn’t going to be easy, but Shelly was basically a good kid that got screwed over by her stupid friends. Walking into the kitchen, I noticed Shelly sitting at the table, her head in one hand and the other idly stroking Lucy. “Lucy love Shelly,” Lucy grawrbled, my word, a cross between growl and warble. “Shelly sad, Alex help Shelly?” I rolled my eyes and groaned at the little dog. “You, too?”
“What?” Shelly suddenly started, not having heard me come in. I tend to move rather stealthily, a feline predatory instinct that’s kept me alive all these years. “The dog, she’s pleading your case.”
“Really? Good Lucy. We girls have to stick together. Who’s my pretty girl?”
“Lucy, pretty girl.”
Oh that’s all I needed, Lucy’s vanity being reinforced. I patted her head and then Shelly’s as I passed by. Shelly gave me a dirty look, to which I returned a patient smile. “Yes, she is, Lucy is a very pretty girl.”
“Must you encourage her?” Charles complained as he stretched out from behind Shelly’s arm. He was nestled up against her and sprawled out on the kitchen table. He knows bleeding well he’s not allowed on the kitchen table. “Off the table, Charles.” I gave him a look, telling him he was pushing his luck. He promptly ignored me. “Is that his name? Charles? Off the table Charles, be a good boy. Get down.” The little ratbag popped right up and flopped down to the floor, just to spite me. He rolled over on his back for Shelly to scratch his stomach, which she did.
“Here, this will help with the hangover,” I handed Shelly a large glass of cranberry juice and a couple of aspirin. I had seen the Ocean Spray jugs in their recycling bin so I figured I had a pretty good chance of getting her to drink it. “And my friends call me Mack.”
She accepted the glass with an annoyed expression. "I have a hangover, not a bladder infection" I gave her a flat look that said "shut up and drink the goddamn juice." She decided to comply. “Thanks, so what’s the verdict?” She took the aspirin and started to sip the juice. “Uh uh.” I reached across the table and gently tipped the glass up. “You need to get all that down and there’s another one coming, alcohol dehydrates you. It’s part of what causes the headache, keep drinking. The verdict is death, Ms. Thompson.” She looked at me a little wide-eyed as she handed the empty back to me to refill.
“You mean you can’t fix it? Oh shit!” I raised an eyebrow at the swear. “No, it can be fixed but I would think replacement would be more cost effective. What I meant, was you should kill the arse-hole who tossed it down the stairs.” Shelly’s eyes narrowed at the odd phrasing and giggled a bit, but it was clearly nothing she hadn’t heard before. She just wasn’t used to me swearing in front of her. I was usually careful about my language, in front of children. What do you want from me? She woke me out of a sound sleep and I’m cranky. Give me a break! I’m not contributing to the delinquency of a minor or anything.
“We can’t do that, my dad catalogs all the serial numbers for insurance purposes, he’d know, the—”
“The serial number is stamped on the primary housing of
the machine, which the largest part of the whole bloody thing.” She looked at me, a little taken aback. I was a smidge inside of her mind and backed out immediately. It had been inadvertent. I have a very strict rule about this.
“Not your fault, Alex. What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? She’s in trouble. Even Lucy is pleading her case. If I don’t help her I’ll never hear the end of it from my room-mates, you included, I suspect.”
“No one is judging you, Alex, but I think you like her. You always wanted a little sister, growing up. You’ll help her because of your pathological compulsion to charge to the rescue of a damsel in distress.”
“I’m sorry, you were saying something about no one judging me?”
“Sorry. Pathological may be a strong word but I agree. Let’s do what we can for her.”
“Aces! Do you want to introduce yourself or stay in the background?”
“Background for me as usual, thanks smartass.”
“Right Mr. Walker, he’d know if we made the switch.”
“It’s Mack. My friends call me Mack. If we are going to be partners in crime you might as well also.”
“Call you Mack? Or be your friend?”
I smiled, I really like this kid. “Do I have to choose one or the other?”
“Not at all, my friends call me Shelly Bean.”
“Yeah…that’s not gonna happen.” Shelly Bean? For cripe’s sake! How young is this girl?
“Too young for you.”
“Not funny, Mai.”
“Really? I could have sworn it was hilarious.”
“Why Mack? Dalton Walker doesn’t exactly lend itself to, Mack.” I smiled, I knew why… “From what I’ve been told it’s a reference to my personality and a popular brand of tractor trailer. I choose to take it as a compliment.” Shelly grinned, nodding her head. “I get it, not so sure it’s a compliment, but it fits.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Casey yawned loudly. “Hey Mack. What’s with the big hunk of junk in the living room?” Beauty! Casey’s awake.
“HELLOOOO! Casey is awake! Ectoplasmic bag of hormones headed your way,
Alex.”
Oh shit! “Excuse me Shelly.” I darted into the living room pushing him back in with a gauntleted hand. “Hey man! What gives?” I kept my voice at a low whisper. “We have a guest.” He looked around me into the kitchen. “Nice, but she’s jailbait, Mack.” He sniggered.
“Keep your voice down, dumbass! She’s a client. Stay out of sight.”
“Aw man! Come on! Mai gets to meet clients! I can pull from the energy of the house too. I won’t fade.”
“Do you see Mai in there?”
“No.”
“There’s your answer then. This is our next door neighbor, she’s not a super or trans-natural and most importantly, I don’t want anyone getting suspicious about three people living here and only one ever comes and goes, savvy?”
“Yeah I guess. What are we doing for her?”
“Just stay out of sight and you’ll catch on.”
I walked back into the kitchen just as the bacon I was frying, finished up. Shelly perked up a bit, “Oh God that smells AMAZING.” She hadn’t realized she was commenting on cooking that may not be meant for her consumption. Her nausea was retreating. Mai had a little something to do with that when I touched her head, but she didn’t need to know. It was a good sign, but never the less, she was expressing interest in MY breakfast.
“Alexander MacFade Yoshida!”
“Leave off Mai. I’m making two plates, plus.”
“You always make two plates plus and eat it all. I’m assuming you’re making a YOU sized plate and one for her.”
“Of course, give me a little credit for hospitality.”
“Fine, credit given. Not let’s see how you spend it.”
“Bonzer, Shelly, sounds like your hangover is improving.”
“Hey that’s right, it is! Thanks, well I’ll get out of your way, so you can eat.” She started to get up; turning from the stove. I pointed a spatula at her abandoned chair. “Sit, I’m not done with you yet.” Swallowing hard, she nervously sat back down. Looking down, Lucy wagged her tail and placed her left paw on Shelly’s knee, gwarbling softly. “You OK, Shelly pretty girl.” Surprisingly, it calmed Shelly down. I have seen Lucy do this a few times before and several since. I’m going to have to take the time to investigate the little mutt’s breeding someday.
Shelly looked at me from across the kitchen not knowing what to expect until I started placing plates of food on the table. Bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast and some sliced cantaloupe, she looked at it hungrily and at me gratefully when I smiled and put a plate and flatware down in front of her, with a glass of milk. I nodded indicating the food. “Go ahead, tuck in.” Shelly’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Sorry, it’s Aussie, for eat up.”
“Oh, right. Duh!” She started to load up her plate. “You’re an aborigine? Is that why your skin is that beautiful color?” It was my turn to be startled. She had never called me beautiful before and I wasn’t sure what to make of it…Bloody hell! I forgot the Glamour! She was seeing the real me!
“For shit sake, Mai! Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Me? She woke me up too, jackass! I’m your partner, not your babysitter. You’d better figure out some way to handle this.” I instinctively clamped my lips over my fangs and shaded my eyes. “Too late for that, Mack, already seen them.” Shelly reached over and pulled at my wrist. “I think they’re amazing.”
“Sorry Shelly, costume party last night must have forgotten to take off the makeup and the contacts. I’ll be right back.” I got up to go into the bathroom, to put on my Glamour. “Mmmm hmmm.” I froze in my tracks. I know that sound! That’s the sound ALL women make when they think I’m lying. “Excuse me?” Shelly shrugged and swallowed a mouthful. “If that’s the way you want to play it, it’s OK by me. It’s your story, stick to it.” In spite of myself, I sat back down, blinking. Casey almost fell over the ottoman in the living room trying to get to the kitchen in time to hear what she was going to say next. I gave her an inquisitive look. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’ve seen cat contacts before and your eyes are way too perfect, to be fake.”
“I seem to recall hearing something like that recently.”
“Yeah, it’s called hind sight, Kreskin.”
“Also, I woke you up, kinda obvious because you came to the door with your fly open.” “What the?” I reached down and buttoned my pants. I wasn’t wearing anything under my loungers.
“Nice move.”
“Will you pipe down? Neither one of us was expecting guests. Bloody Hell, this is getting worse by the moment.”
“Is it Alex? I hadn’t noticed, over all the laughter.”
“You’re an evil, evil woman”
Shelly continued. “Your ‘contacts’ were perfect, like they are now. That NEVER happens. One always gets pushed to the side or tilted, especially if you sleep in them. The teeth are the same. They look worn, like real teeth, not the usual bright white plastic.” I sat there listening, fascinated. The kid was good, and a little scary.
She walked over to me and gestured to my chest. “May I?” I had no idea what she was up to, so I shrugged. Idiot! She reached down and pulled the front of my shirt up to expose my abs. She whistled. “Very nice, but this is what I’m talking about. When you leaned over to tip up my glass, I could see down your shirt. Yes, girls do it too.” She grinned wider as I self-consciously yanked at my shirt, failing miserably to wrench it from her iron clad grip. Shelly, was really enjoying herself. The tables were officially turned.
“No one going to a costume party would use this much make-up. Sure, you would do your face, neck, hands, arms and possibly legs. Been there, done that.” She flipped my shirt back down. “But this? This is all you big boy.” She lightly slapped my stomach with the back of her hand. “So you have a few birth defects. We all do, so you do
n’t have to lie about it.”
“So, we have me all figured out, do we?”
“Uh, yeah, sure sounds that way. Ask her to guess your weight.”
“Oh, shut up! I’ve completely lost control here! You could help, you know.”
“I don’t think so, you’re in control way too much of the time. Sit back and enjoy the ride, Alex. You might actually like it.”
Looking at Shelly, I had to smile as she primly sat back down, very pleased with herself and began making a bacon sandwich with her toast, subconsciously mimicking me.
“Alex, this is just plain spooky. Are you sure you’re not doing…”
“NO, I’m not doing it!”
I had to regain control of the situation. “So tell me Shelly. Why did me being Australian make sense to you? Being all this.” I gestured to my all encompassed appearance, emphasizing the fangs. “Your accent is really light most of the time, almost non-existent, but you say things like ‘fair dinkum, and bonzer.’” (truth be told I kept the accent because women love it) “We watched a movie in school about the horrible way the Australian government treated the mixed kids, the kids that where part Aborigine and part English.” She clarified. I bristled a little. You DO NOT call an Australian, English. It’s a quick way to get punched in the mouth, but she didn’t know any better, so I let her continue, uninterrupted. “They called them a strange word…creamies. The kids had beautiful copper colored skin, like yours. They used to take them away from their parents and adopt them to white families or send them to mission schools to be whitened up.