I couldn’t quantify how much I hated steering my Chevy Malibu through the narrow streets of South Boston with a freaking werewolf in my backseat. Everything I knew and every experience I’d ever had told me a tightly confined area this close to the full moon was just about the worst place to be with a Lycan. Yet here we were. The things I was willing to compromise for Indigo’s sake.
“So you said this guy— this bounty hunter— he caught up to you in New Mexico?” Indigo turned in her seat.
“Many of my kind have been living with Native American tribes here in North America for centuries. They seem to have a better understanding of the ways nature and humanity intersect. We represent something almost sacred to them in that way.”
“At least until you disembowel them and eat their intestines.” My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“Stop being an ass, Gus.”
“Actually,” Dan lifted a hand, “he’s not wrong. At least not at first. There was a period of time, many years ago, when there was strife between our people and the residents of this country. We came here seeking peace and instead, brought danger with us. None of us are proud of that. The elders tell us stories from those days, and I can’t blame your boyfriend for—”
“I’m not her boyfriend,” I snapped, glaring up into the rear view mirror.
“Oh,” Dan said abruptly and glanced at Indigo. “I guess I just sort of assumed—”
Indigo flushed red. “He’s a little— too old for me.”
“Excuse me?” I looked at her across the seat. “I don’t look a day over forty.”
“You look several days over forty, Gus. Sorry to break it to you. Between your face and your wardrobe—”
“My wardrobe? Okay, now you’re pressing your luck.”
“I’ve never even heard of half of those bands. Who the hell is Dr. Feelgood, anyway?”
“Dr. Feelgood is the album, you uncultured swine. The band is Mötley Crüe.”
“I stand corrected. Definitely not a day over forty.” She rolled her eyes and looked back at Dan who tried to muffle a snicker— poorly.
“What were you saying about the Native Americans?” I had a sudden desire to change the subject. We’d stopped by three or four separate Marinas already since leaving Bonnie at the front door of the shelter but hadn’t found what we’d been expecting to find. No trace of a boat big enough to transport up to a dozen or two werewolves, especially with the cages required to secure them. Our next destination was Conley Terminal, a port near the South Boston waterfront, which typically oversaw container ships. That seemed like overkill to me, but I was starting to run out of ideas and I was anxious that the longer we dragged this out, the greater a chance that Dan might have a little accident.
“Just that it took a while, but we eventually learned to co-exist. Navajo holistic medicine is actually very effective at helping with our lunar change. In fact, my family had been living with a particular tribe in New Mexico who had helped us manage our full moon transition for my entire life.”
“Your full moon transition. You make it sound so clinical.”
“It’s not clinical.” I shook my head and gave Indigo a narrow side eye. “There’s nothing clinical about the full moon when it comes to Lycans.”
“Gus—”
“No, he’s right,” Dan interrupted. “On that point, at least.” He paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what he said next. “Generations of Lycan evolution have centered around the time leading up to the full moon. Before the days of electricity and manufactured light, we used to have to use the full moon as our primary hunting time. We would purposefully change into our more feral, animal forms in order to kill as much as possible in that narrow time frame to provide food for our families for the rest of the month. My kind has become conditioned to become more aggressive— more primal— during that time. That’s what’s led to the fairy tales about a full moon ‘causing’ werewolves. It doesn’t— not really— but we do become less restrained.”
“So what he’s saying is,” I helpfully interjected, “driving around Boston near the time of the full moon with a Lycan in our back seat— probably a bad idea.”
“Bonnie has been helping me.”
I made a show of twisting around, looking throughout the rest of the car. “Funny— I don’t see her anywhere.”
“I’ll be okay,” Dan said, easing back in his seat. “She has a unique talent. I feel lucky to have found her.”
We’d passed by my neighborhood moments before as we made our way east toward the water, though I made no indication of that, unsure if I wanted Dan to know where I lived. Whatever he said about Bonnie, I felt like I was driving around with an unstable bundle of TNT bouncing around in the back of my car, and all it would take was a wrong turn to set it off. Summer Street intersected East Broadway ahead, and I took a left turn, moving north toward Conley Terminal, unsure of what we might actually find there. The terminal was the only full-service container terminal in all of New England, and it struck me as odd to think that a supernatural bounty hunter might be using its services, but I’d seen plenty of odder phenomenon in my five hundred years.
I guided the Malibu into a parking lot just south of the terminal entrance, feeling a sense of almost immeasurable relief as I cut the engine and opened the door. Both Indigo and Dan followed my lead, the three of us stepping out into the parking lot, the pungent smell of saltwater carrying on the night breeze. In the dark sky, partially concealed by clouds, the very nearly full moon looked down like a single, bone-colored eye.
“You all right?” I looked at Dan, who nodded stiffly. We walked across the parking lot, toward the entrance to the terminal. At that late hour there wasn’t the normal frenzied hustle and bustle of activity, though I could see lights glowing in the northeast from the vast acreage of containers and ports that made up the terminal.
I couldn’t help but remember our skirmish with Davit Sivaslian which had occurred on the far side of the same field of container ships we were approaching. Fenric had sent a team to help, against my wishes, and several men had died that same night.
We crossed between two large industrial buildings and emerged within a vacant lot, just south of one of the main freight corridors. There always seemed to be some sort of construction happening and it was no different near Conley Terminal, though that late at night, the vehicles were all dark and dormant, large, metal monsters deep in slumber.
Continuing to walk in silence, we moved past a row of tractor trailer trucks parked alongside an office building, then eased south of a rectangular inlet, where several smaller boats were parked. None of them were large enough to carry the cargo Daniel insisted the bounty hunter carried, so we continued east, moving past. A moment later we were in another large construction site, the fenced off container yard just beyond.
“This way.” I pointed along the fence and to the north, there was a gap in the chain link where construction vehicles could move back and forth from the container yard to the construction site. We ventured carefully through that gap and onto the concrete surface of the container yard itself. The slip was empty alongside the yard, no ships currently being unloaded, which didn’t surprise me, considering the hour of night.
To the south rows and rows of corrugated steel containers in various colors and sizes lined the concrete surface of the yard, a life-size Tetris puzzle of rectangular shapes nested together for efficient storage.
“No ships here,” I said with a shake of my head, turning toward Indigo and Dan as I gestured back the way we came. In the faint moonlight I could see sweat glistening from Dan’s brow as he gently ran his tongue over his lips, looking anxious. “We should get back in the car, follow Summer Street across the channel, check out some of the dry docks on the other side.”
Dan nodded stiffly and swallowed as the three of us made our way back west. We didn’t get far.
“Excuse me!”
I halted, looking ahead, spotting a van that I hadn’t seen before, parked near that office building we’d passed moments before.
“This is a restricted area!” Three men stepped toward us, all of them wearing matching gray coveralls. “You can’t just wander around in here.”
“Sorry about that,” I said, holding up a hand. “We’re just leaving.”
“Why are you here?” The man stepped closer, a shine of sweat slicking his bald head, his mouth a sneer beneath the thick fuzz of a dark mustache. “You don’t just accidentally stumble into a container yard.” His two buddies flanked him, the three of them together probably tipping the scales at over seven hundred pounds.
“Just looking for a ship is all.” I shot a glance toward Dan. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched at his side. He looked exceptionally suspicious.
“I’m going to need you to stay right there.” Mustache said, then glanced over his shoulder at one of his friends, a somewhat taller man with a pretty kick-ass mullet if I did say so myself. “Call the Harbor Police.”
“Please don’t do that.” I showed my palms. “Yeah, we were stupid, but we’re not causing trouble.”
That’s when I noticed that the man with the mustache had a lead pipe in his hand, cradled before him, one end tapping gently into his left palm.
“Just being here is causing trouble.” He spoke with a thick South Boston accent.
“Then we’ll leave.”
“It ain’t that easy.”
“Actually, I think it is.” Dan’s voice was deep, a bothersome curdle rattled deep in his throat.
“Dan, calm down.” I extended a hand.
“Yeah, Dan,” Mustache sneered, “calm down.” He tapped the pipe in his palm. Mullet had his cell phone out, prepared to call the cops, though he hadn’t yet dialed. Dan broadened his shoulders and for a moment, I could have sworn he looked a bit taller and thicker than he had before. My heart raced and I involuntarily glanced skyward, seeing that the clouds had moved away from the moon, drifting lazily across the dark horizon.
“I’m calm,” Dan replied, but I doubted the sincerity of his statement. “We’re going to go back to our car and drive away. You won’t see us again.”
Mullet shook his head and held up the phone. “Nah, sorry, man, don’t work that way.”
I sighed and closed my eyes and Dan’s throat rattled with a low, feral sound.
“Dan,” I hissed, then directed my gaze toward the two men. “Please. Just let us—” I stepped forward, which was, apparently, the wrong thing to do. Mustache stepped forward as well, apparently taking my gesture as a threat, and thrust the pipe into my chest hard enough to make me stumble. Instinctively, I reached for my belt and my fingers brushed the handle of the knife sheathed there. I didn’t like using magic on normal human people, no matter what sorts of scumbags they were, but if it came down to our lives being threatened, I’d do what needed doing.
“What do you got there?” Mustache barked, jerking his scruffy chin toward me. “Is that a knife?”
“I don’t want any trouble.” My reply was directed at the man with the pipe, though my eyes went to Mullet, checking to see if he was dialing that phone. My fingertips tingled, as the surface of the knife hilt thrummed with power.
“Look.” Indigo stepped between me and Mustache, holding out two hands as if begging for my life. It occurred to me then that Dan wasn’t the only barely contained monster I had to deal with— I’d seen Indigo lose her cool in a stressful situation as well. I’d seen her give in to her vampire side and the results had not been pretty. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault, okay? I wanted to see the ships. I begged them.”
Mustache glared at her, his grip on the pipe not loosening. “So you’re saying if I’m going to smack anyone with this pipe, it should be you?” He pressed forward and Indigo withdrew, taking a step back. Things had escalated and I could tell they wouldn’t be settled with words. Mustache’s attention diverted, I slipped the blade from its sheath and dragged it through the air next to my right hip, feeling the heat in the handle intensify.
“Listen, little girl,” Mustache said, moving even closer. “We’re not looking to beat anyone up, okay? We’re just keeping you here until the cops arrive. Ain’t that right, Floyd?” He turned to look at Mullet, who seemed to have forgotten that he was the one with the phone. Mullet nodded jarringly, then lifted the item in his hand, extending a finger to dial. I whispered the nearly silent enchantment, then flicked my fingers subtly, sending a swift push of magical force forward. It struck the phone and threw it from Mullet’s grasp, sending it tumbling away until it clattered across the pavement.
“What the hell, Floyd?” Mustache whirled toward him, his legs crossing and I shot another small gust from an almost moveless gesture, funneling the magical power through Christine, the knife in my right hand. The second gentle press struck Mustache in his ankles and as he crossed his legs to turn, they jerked out from beneath him. He went down with a grunt, hitting the pavement. Left shoulder struck first with enough impact to jar the pipe loose from his fingers and sent it rolling across the pavement away from his outstretched grasp. Indigo swept it from the ground and held it in two practiced hands, grasping it like she might a samurai sword, faced off against the two men still standing.
Mullet and the third man glanced at each other, then down at Mustache, who lay prone on the ground. They eyed Indigo, then looked back at me again, where the knife in my right hand was more visible, the blade pointed toward them.
“We don’t want any trouble,” I repeated.
The two men seemed hesitant, then Indigo stepped forward and brought the pipe down in a swift forward arc. It clattered noisily against the pavement and her lips parted in an angry sneer.
“C’mon, punks! Do you feel lucky?”
The two men looked uncertainly at each other.
“Take it easy, Dirty Harry,” I whispered, then looked back at the two men. “We’re just going to walk back to our car and take off. No reason anyone has to call the cops, no reason Clint Eastwood here has to break one of your skulls.”
“Don’t just stand there you jerks!” Mustache shouted from the ground and began to push himself upright. Indigo brought the pipe down on the ground, inches from his splayed fingers, the metallic crash echoing loudly. Mustache nearly screeched, drawing his hand back and thumping back down with a muffled groan.
“All right, all right.” Mullet waved his hands. “You just wanted a field trip, man, I get it. No harm, no foul.”
I side-stepped, keeping my eyes on the two men and gestured for Dan and Indigo to go ahead of me. Walking backwards, I kept my eyes on them, the knife still held in my hand, until finally I fell in beside them and as a trio, we all jogged back to the car.