“Her Clan may have some idea about the Queen’s warning,” he added, echoing my own thought.
MY WORK the next day was a chaotic blur. One of the other drivers called in sick, so those of us who were left were running around twice as much, moving our own packages and taking care of his. I was over an hour late back to my apartment.
I threw a microwave meal into the appropriate appliance and reflected that after half-living on the streets for a few years, even bachelor living and a six AM to four PM job seemed like a huge step up. That thought and dinner gave me the energy to grind up some coffee and fill a coffee press. The local organic coffee roaster that I’d been introduced to in the Wizard’s Tower was growing on me. The one I was drinking was named after some resort or mountain or some such nearby—it had a picture of three mountains on it.
With half a hot cup of coffee in me, I booted up my computer and began to skim the Internet and Fae-Net to see if there were any obvious clues about a threat to the Wizard. Just like humans, we have our message boards and conspiracy sites.
A half hour’s trawl came up with nothing definite in the slightest. Not on a threat to the Wizard, anyway, though from the hints I saw, there was definitely a vampire cabal in town, which worried me.
Nobody liked feeders. Vampires weren’t the only group of them—wendigo, banshees, and a few others fell into the category—but they all ate people. Blood or flesh or souls, they devoured people one way or another and left corpses in their tracks.
I didn’t like that they killed people—by and large, I liked humans. I also understood that most inhuman authorities hated risks of exposure. All of us, including the humans, were happier with the current deal. I had the suspicion that it was only collusion with mortal authorities who agreed with us that allowed us to keep the secret.
But there were enough worried comments, enough possible sightings combined with my own encounter to be very sure that the Queen was entirely correct. A cabal had moved into Calgary. Seeing as how the Wizard had known I was there, and I was a nobody, that must have taken a lot of skill.
There was a threat. I could already see that MacDonald was the key to the stability of this city and his death would cause chaos in the inhuman world. By the time the dust settled, a cabal could be fully settled in, entrenched enough to force its inclusion in the local Covenants. It had happened before.
Feeling a little guilty for planning on using her as an information source as much as anything, I pulled up Mary Tenerim’s phone number in my phone and told the phone to call her. It rang three times, and then her voice came on the line.
“Mary speaking,” she answered briskly.
“Hi, Mary, it’s Jason Kilkenny calling,” I said. “You told me to call you.”
“So I did,” she replied, her voice brightening. “Thank you again for the rescue.”
“It was nothing,” I told her uncomfortably. “I was there; I couldn’t walk by.”
“I don’t know if it was nothing,” she said with a laugh. “You probably saved my life. I’d like to make it up to you if I can.”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked carefully.
“How about I buy you a drink and we talk about that?” she offered. “I know an adorable Irish pub downtown that has nothing to do with anybody.”
She didn’t leave much doubt as to what she meant by anybody. A pub with no connection to any inhuman sounded like a perfectly safe place to meet a pretty girl for a drink.
“That sounds great; when?”
“I can be there in about half an hour,” she said eagerly.
I looked at my computer. I might find more online, but I could find that as easily tomorrow. Besides, well, it had been a long time since my last date of any kind.
“Works for me,” I agreed. “So, how do I get to this place?”
I told her roughly where I was and she gave me quick transit directions.
“I’ll see you in half an hour,” I promised. Hanging up, I then promptly started panicking over what to wear. I still didn’t have a lot of clothes, but with a bit of effort I found a sweater that I’d actually cleaned and a clean-looking pair of jeans.
Throwing my heavy winter coat over that, I ventured out into the bitterly frigid night to catch a bus.
7
THE PUB TURNED out to be completely subterranean, in the basement under a photo shop with only a doorway and a sign on the main street level. With no windows, it was lit only by a series of hanging globe lights that cast a stark pattern of light and shadow over wood paneling and furniture that was probably older than I was.
Some of the tables had been cleared away to make a stage, and a very Irish-looking lass was crooning into a microphone in Gaelic while playing a guitar softly. It was softer background music than I was expecting of a pub on a Thursday night, and most of the bar patrons had clustered around her stage, enjoying the music.
Mary had grabbed a table in a back corner. She was sitting on the edge of it, watching for me, as the back end of the table was almost invisible in shadow from the stairs. She saw me and waved me over.
“Hi, Jason,” she said cheerily. “Grab a seat, take a look at the menu and let me know what you want to grab to drink. I already ordered us some nachos.”
Her cheerfulness was infectious, and I found myself returning her brilliant smile as I slid in across from her. I glanced at the beer menu for, oh, five seconds, and then ordered the same locally brewed traditional ale I’d ordered at every bar in Calgary since Tarva had served it to me my first night.
“Sorry for needing directions,” I said, flailing about for something to say. “I’m pretty new to the city.”
“Calgary can be confusing if you don’t know the setup,” she nodded. “When did you get here?”
I actually had to think about it for a moment. “Three weeks, give or take a few days,” I told her. “Came in on the Greyhound.”
“That’s awesome,” she said, and I returned her smile. “Where did you come from?”
“A lot of places, really,” I said slowly, glancing around to make sure none of the other patrons were close enough to overhear. “Georgia, originally, but I wasn’t raised as fae. It was a shock to discover I was a changeling, and I did a lot of bouncing around before deciding to come up here.”
“Damn.” She was quiet for a moment, sipping her beer. “I always knew that I was a shifter—I was raised in Clan Tenerim.”
I found myself somewhat envious of Mary in that moment—being raised not merely knowing you were supernatural but among others who knew and understood just what that meant sounded like a dream to me.
“Clementine’s and my mother married into the clan, though,” Mary continued. “We’re Métis and Tenerim on Dad’s side, but an Irish shifter clan on Mom’s. No one was quite sure what kind of shifter Clementine and I would turn into.” She sighed. “Dad was a lynx shifter, which Clementine and I got. Sadly, I think a lot of people were hoping we’d inherit Mom’s shift—she was an Irish dire wolf, and nobody got on her bad side!”
I had seen pictures once of the old, semi-magical dire wolves. They only lived on in the shifters who could take their form these days—but only bear shapeshifters could challenge them for size or sheer physical strength.
“I can see why she’d be...well respected,” I agreed. “Is she still with you?”
“No.” Mary was back to being quiet, and I mentally kicked myself. “She died in the fight with the last cabal that came to Calgary. We bore the brunt of that fight until MacDonald intervened—it’s why no one likes to think of a new feeder invasion.”