I expect it was worry for her that kept the wolf motionless on the floor of the office, his eyes narrowed on the barrel of the gun as the skin over his muzzle moved in a soundless snarl.
If I’d had time to be scared, it would have been then, looking at Samuel. At Sam. Already I could see the tightening of the muscles in his hindquarters that preceded an attack. Gun or not, Maia or not, he wasn’t waiting long.
All of this I saw the first instant I opened the door, and I was moving even as I took in the scene. I snatched Sylvia’s broom, rounded the corner of the counter, and brought the broom handle down on the gunman’s wrists. It hit with a crack, knocking the gun loose before he, or anyone else in the room, had a chance to react to my entrance.
Aside from turning into a coyote when I feel like it, my superpowers are limited to an inconsistent resistance to magic and a turn of speed that is a bit on the far side of humanly possible. From the time I heard the first scream, I used every ounce of speed I had.
I swung at the man a second time, this time aiming at his body as if the broom were a Louisville Slugger, saying urgently, “Stay down, Sam.”
All that karate was good for something, I thought, as the man grabbed the handle and jerked back. I let it go. Off balance because he was braced for resistance, he took a step back, and I kicked him in the stomach, knocking him down the stair and onto the blacktop outside. Not incidentally, he took the guy who’d been behind him with him to the ground.
Now, if only the werewolf listens.
I snatched up the gun our intruder had dropped on the floor and stepped into the doorway, holding the door open as he had, with one foot. I pointed the gun at the stranger’s face—and waited for the real terror to begin.
But there was no roar behind me, no further screams as Sam shook off the air of civilization that made people look at him and think “pet” rather than “monster.”
I took a moment to breathe then, half-stunned by Sam’s restraint. It took me a moment to figure out what to do with the best-case scenario I’d been unexpectedly gifted with.
I could hear noise behind me, but I ignored it. Zee was there; no enemy could come at me from that direction. The sobs and frightened voices softened and stopped. Sam wasn’t growling. I wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not, but decided to think positively.
“Sylvia, call the police,” I told her after a half second of consideration. We were in the right. And thanks to Adam, who littered my workplace with security cameras, we’d have proof. As an added bonus, there were no werewolf attacks to explain away. No reason for Sam to play any role in this at all. “Tell them what happened and ask them to hurry.”
“Hey, lady, you don’t want to do that,” said the second man, breathlessly. He was beginning to struggle to get out from under the gunman—who was assessing me with cool eyes while his assistant kept talking. “You don’t want the police involved. This will go better the quieter we can keep it.”
If he hadn’t sounded so patronizing, I don’t think I would have pulled the trigger.
I shot to the side, far enough that there was no way it would hit either of them, near enough that the blacktop that was dislodged by the bullet hit them both.
“I’d stay still if I were you,” I said, adrenaline making my voice shake. My hands, the important part, were steady.
“I am calling Tony,” said Sylvia behind me in a low voice that the two men lying on their backs at the base of my steps wouldn’t hear. “That way there will be no mistakes made.” Her voice was calm and unhurried. All those years as a police dispatcher coming to her aid. Tony was my friend, Sylvia’s friend—and we both trusted him.
With the intruders under control, I became aware that there were other people outside. Not customers these. They stood by a full-sized black van that managed to look wicked and elegant in a custom paint job.
There were three people—two (one man, one woman) dressed like the gunman, right down to the flowing locks, and a girl in a gray T-shirt and a headset. The van had the same yellow lettering that was on the man’s jacket.
KELLY HEART, it said, I realized once I had leisure to read it, BOUNTY HUNTER. Underneath the yellow, in slightly smaller letters, it said: SATURDAYS AT 8PM CENTRAL TIME. CATCHING THE BAD GUYS, ONE AT A TIME.
“Smile,” I said grimly to the people who had my back: Zee, Sylvia and her girls, and Sam. “We’re on Candid Camera.” Zee and Sam needed to know there were unfriendly cameras pointed at them.
“Now, just you calm down,” said one of the people in black, the woman with bright yellow hair and red lipstick. As she started to talk, she began walking toward us briskly. “You’ll want to put down that gun. It’s just TV, lady, nothing to get excited about.”
I don’t take orders. Not from people invading my place. I sent a second shot into the pavement in front of her.
“Tanya, stop,” shrieked the techie-girl. “Don’t make her shoot again. Do you know what those silver bullets cost us?”
“You’ll want to stop right there,” I told them. Silver was for werewolves. They’d come hunting werewolves. “I was raised in the backwoods of Montana. I can hit a duck on the wing.” Maybe. Probably. I’d never shot a duck in my life; I prefer hunting on all fours. “Where I come from, a gun is a weapon, not a TV prop, and if all the bad guys are dead, our side of the story is the only one that gets told. Don’t make me decide that would be easier.”
Tanya froze, and I pulled the barrel back to center on the man whose face was vaguely familiar once I knew he was a TV star. I was fighting against the growing urge just to pull the trigger and be done with it.
Coyotes, like werewolves, are territorial—and this gun-toting jerk had barged into my place as if he had every right to be here.
“Are the police on their way?” I asked Sylvia, as she hung up the phone. My voice was shaking with adrenaline and anger, but my hands were still very steady.
“He says he’ll be here in five. He also said that it would be a good thing to have backup. So there will be some other police as well.”
I smiled widely at the bounty hunter, showing my teeth like any good predator. “Tony is a police officer. He’s known these kids since they were in diapers. He’s not going to be happy with you.” Tony was also hopelessly in love with Sylvia—though I didn’t think she knew that.
There was a movement to my right, and I snuck a quick glance to see Zee and Gabriel coming out the garage door. They must have gone back around. Zee had a crowbar in one hand and held it like another man might hold a sword. Gabriel had—
“Zee,” I squeaked. “Tell him to put the torque wrench back and grab something that won’t cost me five hundred dollars if he hits someone with it.”
“Won’t cost five hundred,” said Zee, but as I glanced over again, he nodded at the white-faced Gabriel, who looked at what he held as if he’d never seen it before. The boy slipped back into the garage as Zee said, “It wouldn’t break it—you’d just have to get it recalibrated.”
“We have a whole garage worth of tools—pry bars, tire irons, and even a hammer or two. There’s got to be something better than my torque wrench he could have grabbed.”
“Listen, lady,” Kelly Heart said in a calm, soothing voice. “Let’s take a deep breath and discuss this a moment. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. That little girl was about to get mauled by a werewolf.”
Truth.
It didn’t surprise me. Talking to Zee had steadied me, and I’d had a moment or two to think.
There might be a TV reality star somewhere who would point a gun at a cute little girl, but not while he was being filmed. The man behind him had been his cameraman—I could see the camera on the ground where it had been dropped when Heart landed on the second man with all his two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle.
If he’d come here hunting werewolves, he’d have figured out what Sam was right away. There’s a bit of wolf magic that encourages humans to see a dog instead of a wolf, but it is only a little bit of magic, and if someone is looking—they’ll see a wolf and not a dog.