A London Werewolf in America Read online

  She held onto his hand as if she expected something miraculous to happen. Apparently it didn’t, because she let go with a little shrug and a wisp of disappointment on her face. “I’ll tell Darinda you’re here. Make yourself at home.” She skipped toward the rear of the shop. On the way she flipped a wall switch, and the lights sprang on. “Sorry for the gloomy. We’re a magic shop. We’ve got a rep to uphold.”

  She giggled and left him. A final hiss clawed him from the shadows in back, then the scalding yellow eyes disappeared.

  He prowled around the shop. He’d never seen such a collection of junk, not even in Grandmama’s attic. Candles by the gross. Herbs both dried and potted. Books with titles like Simple Enchantments and Necromancy for Dummies. Stone gargoyles in various sizes. Stuffed bats and globe lights hanging from the ceiling. An entire wall devoted to wizarding robes, long glittery gowns, and skimpy studded leather pieces, along with makeup in garish colors, silver jewelry and accessories. That explained where the cubs on the street had gotten their ludicrous costumes.

  In short, it carried the type of paraphernalia an ignorant monkey would imagine a witch would need. However, not all of it was trash. She had a healthy stock of basil on those shelves. Vampires liked to flavor their blood with basil when they couldn’t get fresh. Not all the books were recent-vintage paperbacks. Some of the more tattered volumes had titles in Latin and Greek. That gargoyle in the corner wasn’t pockmarked cement. It was mummified. He suspected she kept an entirely different inventory in back, for after-hours customers.

  Such shops existed in England and had for centuries. They popped into temporary existence down a side street, peddled their wares for a brief span, then moved on. They were usually run by Bulgarians and always smelled faintly of cheese.

  Nothing cheesy about this place, beyond certain items of merchandise. It had its own unique scent to it. Magic, perhaps. Definitely hers. One deep breath and he could practically feel her hair between his fingers, taste her skin on his tongue. She had set her stamp on this venture, marked it with her personality. A smile of satisfaction bloomed on his lips. Territoriality was a trait a wolf could appreciate.

  He paused to inspect a terrarium in a corner, angled to catch every last ray of sunlight. The tank held a foot-long lizard that looked like a mutant iguana. The ghastly thing flicked a purple tongue at him and hissed in mild annoyance.

  “Don’t mind Norman. He’s basically harmless.”

  Aha, the witch. If she thought she could intimidate him out of her life at this point with only an arch glare, she was sadly mistaken. Here in her shop, away from that smoke she’d conjured at the airport, he could get a better handle on her scent. It held a tang no mere ape could lay claim to. Its spiciness made his mouth water.

  “Mr. Chase,” she started.

  “Roderick.” He bared his teeth in a charming smile. It tightened a bit at the corners. “That beastly cat isn’t yours, is it?”

  “Springsteen? No, he’s Peri’s. My familiar is Stormin’ Norman there.” She nodded at the tank.

  He glanced within. The lizard blinked languidly back at him, upper and lower lids oozing together. “Not your average sort of familiar, is he?”

  “Shows what you know. Norman’s a dragon.”

  “Indeed.” He took a closer look. The lizard remained unperturbed. “Bit small for a dragon,” Roderick remarked.

  “They only grow as big as their tank. If I kept him in the tub he’d be larger.”

  “No wings?”

  “Not on that breed. Good thing, or he’d be buzzing all over the store. Other than the cost for fire insurance, he’s pretty low-maintenance.”

  Of course she was joking. The thing was a prop for the monkeys. A monitor lizard with glued-on spines and eyebrows. It munched placidly on a leaf of Romaine. In a corner of the terrarium lay a glob of raw chicken, and what appeared to be charcoal briquettes.

  Roderick turned his back to the tank. He wasn’t here for lizards. “If you say so. At any rate, I’ve the afternoon free. I thought you might be interested in—”

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Chase.” Tipped off by Peri, Darinda had time to plan her attack. She hadn’t counted on those yellow eyes. They hit her like a sledgehammer and sent shockwaves down to her Nikes. Even in khakis and a pullover sweater there was no mistaking his breed, or his sheer masculinity, or his intentions. Wolves were short on subtlety and direct in what they wanted. And this one wanted—

  She stiffened her shoulders. It didn’t matter what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get. She summoned her power, cloaked it about her, and had the satisfaction of watching that smug lupine grin of his falter. He recovered swiftly with no drop in the wanting. “Pigheaded” also fit the were description.

  “I won’t even ask how you found me,” she went on. “We both know why you’re really here. It isn’t going to happen.”

  That infuriating smirk returned. “No?”

  “No.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I know a wolf on the prowl when he barges into my shop. Of any species.”

  “We can dispense with the awkward chitchat, then. I invite you to lunch, you say yes, we discover how attracted we are to each other, and afterwards—”

  She held up her hand. The air in front of him suddenly took on gelid solidity. He tested it with the flat of his palm. It had a bit of give, but turned stiff at resistance. He could move in any direction except toward Darinda.

  “This only delays the inevitable, you know,” he informed her. “You want me. I can smell it on you.”

  “That’s my bath oil. I don’t waste time on married men, or soon-to-be-married men. You want a last fling, look elsewhere.”

  His eyes thinned. “Word travels fast.”

  “I’m a witch. We have ways of finding things out. We also honor oaths, our own and others’. I won’t help you betray your mate’s trust with an hour of empty sex.”

  “It wouldn’t be empty. Or only an hour.”

  “No means no, wolfie. So, if that’s all you’re here for…”

  She extended her arm. The air-shield crowded against him, forcing him backward toward the door.

  “Wait.” Typical wolf, he didn’t plan on going out without a fight. “That’s not the only reason I’m here. I came for—” His desperate gaze scoured the shop’s interior and hit on the sign by the register. “A reading. I came for a reading.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Yes. I admit it, I’m here to be mated. I want to know how it turns out. Will we get on, how many pups will we have, will our pack prosper, that sort of thing.”

  He was lying, of course. You just couldn’t trust a wolf in a pullover sweater, no matter how sexy he looked in it. Her resolve wavered, and so did her shield. Instantly Roderick dug in his heels and stood fast. Darinda sighed and dispersed her shield. “Okay, you get a reading. Then you leave.”

  “For now.”

  “For good.”

  Roderick shrugged. He took out his wallet and pulled out a wad of American currency, three times what the sign said she charged. “Enough?”

  “Sufficient.” Darinda went behind the counter before he could swoop down on her. He strolled over and laid the money on the counter. She didn’t look at it, or touch it. Same for him, though she could feel the heat of his stare on her. She reached into the shoebox and scooped up the cards, shook them together and shuffled. “Try not to be upset if the news isn’t good. I have no control over what the cards tell me.”

  He eyed the cards, suspicious. “Is that a poker deck?”

  “Would you rather have Tarot? I can do either.”

  “No, this will do.” He smiled widely and leaned his hip against the counter. “It’s certainly different. What do I do?”

  Darinda shuffled, cut the deck, and fanned it. “Pick a card.”

  “Seriously?”

  “The card you select will represent you. The reading builds around it.” Hecate’s bra, she was sweating. She felt a sudden chilly sense of foreboding
which card would end up in his hand.

  He made an exaggerated show of plucking just the right card. He held it up before his eyes, its back to her, and peered at her over the top of it. “Do I put it back in the deck?”

  “No, down on the counter, face up.” She closed her eyes and listened to the whisper of pasteboard landing on wood. His breathing was another whisper, steady and expectant. Her own breath she held in her lungs.

  She cracked her lids a smidge and peeked at the card.

  King of Spades.

  At her stifled moan Roderick leaned over the counter, dangerously close to her. He actually sounded worried. “Is it bad?”

  “No. Of course it isn’t. It’s just your card.” She shoved him back and briskly dealt the next card off the top. She caught the flash of red, but couldn’t stop herself. The Queen of Hearts landed on the counter beside the King of Spades.

  Oh crap.

  “That means what?” Roderick prompted.

  “Love,” she said, her voice only a little strained. “Your mate-to-be.” That must be it, of course. This was Roderick’s reading, not her own. The Queen could represent anyone. “Let’s see where it goes.”

  It went to three diamonds in a row. King and Queen linked together on life’s journey. Then the trouble started, in the form of the two of clubs. The two of spades followed. “That’s not good.”

  “Why not?”

  “Clubs mean difficulty, and spades mean change. Sometimes drastic change. You and your mate are joined together, but it won’t be happy. Not at first.”

  He sighed in resignation. “I didn’t imagine it would be.”

  “Getting cold paws? Sounds like it’s a little late for that. Is she—”

  “I’ve no idea what she is. I’ve never met the girl.”

  Darinda froze in the act of dealing. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, we’ve never met. We’ve spoken on the phone, and I’ve seen photos of her, but that’s it. This is a political union, arranged by my pack leader. Neither of us had any say in the matter.”

  “Uh-huh.” Darinda tapped the back of the card with her fingernail. “No offense, but does your pack know what century we’re living in?”

  “No offense to you, but you’ve no idea of the complexity of wolf society. How regimented we are. The alpha barks, you jump, or else you’re out of the pack. A lone wolf doesn’t survive long.” His expressive lips twisted. “You’ve no idea how much I envy you monkeys—excuse me, you humans, I mean. Land of the free. How I wish.”

  Aha. Darinda saw it all. Young, ambitious alpha male, chafing under the rule of a pack leader. That explained his atrocious behavior, although it didn’t excuse it. “A word of advice? Picking up women right before you get married isn’t going to help anything.”

  “Well, it’s not as if I’ll be able to afterwards, is it? Might as well have my fun while I can.”

  She bit down on her heated retort. Among the weres, marriage was sacrosanct. They mated for life and never strayed. She knew that much about them. “Let’s finish up the reading,” she said briskly. “Who knows, maybe it’ll get better.”

  It didn’t. It got worse. The Jack of Clubs came up next, an indication of serious trouble ahead.

  “Better yet?” Roderick said.

  Rather than respond, she laid down the next card. Her heart stopped.

  Ace of Spades.

  “Your scent’s gone sour,” Roderick informed her. “I know that isn’t good.”

  She raised her cobalt eyes to meet his. “Your life is in danger.”

  Hecate’s tits. First love, then mortal peril. The whole clichéd kettle of fish. He looked as if he might have laughed it off, but his nose kept twitching. “From what source?”

  “Let’s see if it will tell us.” She dealt the next three cards. Diamond, spade, diamond. “The link,” she said, pointing out the diamonds. “Looks like it’s personal. Someone close to you wants you dead. That fiancée you’ve never met?”

  “Or my entire immediate family. So tell me.” He gestured at the cards, not quite as carelessly as she was sure he’d intended. “Do they succeed?”

  Doggedly she laid out the rest of the reading. Black predominated. All at once the Ace of Hearts broke through, one last surge of love against the dark. The final card was the noncommittal five of diamonds. She could read no resolution from it.

  Roderick had been leaning ever closer over the counter. He was practically in her lap. “Well? What happens? Do I survive the wedding?”

  “I can’t tell. Everything’s up in the air. The future’s never set in stone.” Abruptly she swept the whole deal off the counter and into the box underneath. She shoved Roderick’s payment back at him. “It doesn’t mean a thing. They’re only cards.”

  “And all that sweat on your forehead and fear stink in your odor doesn’t mean anything either.”

  He was so close she could smell him. He smelled like fresh-mown grass, as if he’d rolled in it. She wanted to back off but couldn’t move. When she dared to look up, she found his lips only inches from hers. “Do yourself a favor,” she said. “Be careful.”

  “Always,” he murmured, and leaned in.

  The door crashed open, and an elderly woman charged in, loaded for bear. “There you are!” Her white-hot glare hit Roderick square between the yellow eyes. The woman’s eyes were also yellow, Darinda saw. Maybe not loaded for bear. Maybe loaded for wandering wolf. “The nerve of you! Running out on Nora Duquesne like that. Do you know the time I had, tracking you? If you hadn’t mentioned South Street last night—” She spotted Darinda, and her snarl switched targets. “Oh, I see. That’s it, puppy. It’s the leash for you. I ought to shut you up in a kennel until the wedding’s done. ”

  “It’s nothing like that.” Roderick hopped off the counter and put equal distance between himself and the women. That didn’t stop the older one from striding up to him and landing a cuff on his neck. “Ow! Will you stop?”

  “He came here for a reading,” Darinda said and indicated the sign. “I invited him. We met briefly at the airport, and I told him I’m a seer. He told me all about his upcoming wedding. He wanted to know if everything works out.”

  “Oh?” The woman thinned her eyes at the both of them in a pull-the-other-one look. “And?”

  “I fall madly in love with my bride and we live happily ever after,” Roderick said with a flick of a glance at Darinda. “Or so I was told.”

  “And that’s it,” Darinda finished. “Nothing else happened. Or is going to.” She ignored Roderick’s muffled snort and the silent mockery of the cards under the counter. She needed to diffuse the negative vibes. “Wait. Just a moment.” She darted over to a shelf and took down a large plain tin, which she presented to the growling woman.

  The woman sniffed it suspiciously. “What’s this?”

  “Scalp powder,” Darinda said. “It’s okay. I’m a witch. I know what you are, and I know what city air can do to your coats.” She spared a smile for Roderick. “Consider it a wedding present.”

  “You think you know quite a bit,” the woman started, then something about the tin’s odor caught her attention. She sniffed it more carefully. Her head shot up and her stare pierced Darinda. “Do you know Charles Meadows? Philadelphia Police Department?

  “Officer Charlie? Sure, he’s a regular. We get a lot of referrals from him.”

  The woman smiled, all snarls vanished. “Of course. You’re that witch on South Street. Charles is my son. I’m Letitia Meadows.” She offered her cuffing hand, and the women shook. “Charles swears by you. I must say, your flea-and-tick concoction literally saved our hides last summer. I trust you also know Alexander?”

  “I’ve done work for him. I try to stay on his good side.”

  “Don’t we all.” They rolled their eyes in unison, and a friendship was born on the spot. “You call me Letty, dear. And you’re—oh, Charles has said your name a million times. ”

  “Darinda Lowell.” She plucked a business card off t
he counter and handed it to Letty. Once she replayed the airport encounter in her head, it was easy to guess how Roderick had tracked her down. And speaking of whom— she glanced around, just in time to catch the silent closing of the door. “Don’t look now, but Roderick’s skipped out on you again.”

  “He won’t get far. This old sniffer’s still got it.” She tapped her nose. “That pup. Always was a handful. I’ll see he doesn’t bother you again.”

  Letty bustled out, clutching her tin like it held gold. Roderick hadn’t gone far. Darinda glimpsed him on the sidewalk, just at the edge of the window. “You’re in for it now,” she murmured as Letty closed in on him. But the confrontation moved beyond her eye- and earshot, and no way was she going to peek out the door, as much as her curiosity egged her on.

  Arranged marriages, in this day and age. Darinda breathed a prayer of thanks to Hecate that she’d been born witch and not were. “Good luck, wolfie. You’re going to need it.”

  Assuming he survived.

  That wasn’t her business either, and she wouldn’t allow herself to get involved. The Queen represented his mate, not her. The packs would sort it out. He seemed intelligent, his behavior toward women aside, and clearly had experience watching his back. He’d be fine. Although, tonight she’d light a candle anyway.

  Peri poked her head out of the back. “Is he gone? Can I let go of Springsteen now?”

  “Yes. Thanks for abandoning me.”

  “I was right here the whole time. You did fine, what I could hear over the hissing.” Peri trotted into the shop, followed by a bristling Springsteen. The cat stalked over every inch of the storefront and sprayed where Roderick had stood. “Hey!” Peri yelped and scooped up her familiar. “Bad kitty! I should put you in the tank with Norman. I’ll clean that up.”

  “You better. What happened? I thought you wanted him.”

  “So did I, but…” Peri shrugged. “He isn’t meant for me. I knew it the second I shook his hand. Too bad, you’re right, he is a hunk. Lucky her, whoever his fiancée is. Could’ve been lucky you. I thought he was gonna leap right over the counter.”

  So had Darinda. She managed not to shiver. “You know werewolves. See, want, take. Not exactly masters of subtlety.”