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We reconvened on the pavement outside, policemen working their way through the crowd and handing out tickets right and left. There was no way to take all of us into custody, but I figured we’d each end up with hefty fines. The lucky combatants were the ones who’d remained four-legged and were released into the custody of a supposed “owner” with no more than a pat on the head.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t so fortunate. “What were you trying to do with the child?” one policeman demanded, wrenching me back around to face him when all I wanted was to enfold my sister in yet another well-earned hug. Kira hadn’t been wearing either a coat or hat when she was taken yesterday, and I didn’t like the way her teeth were chattering now.
“I’m her guardian,” I countered...then paused as the same lanky figure I’d seen earlier stalked toward me out of the crowd. Sure enough, when the male ripped off his gas mask, the social worker I’d eluded one day prior emerged from behind the covering.
“You were her guardian,” Simon countered. “No longer. I’m taking Kira into protective custody.”
“But...” I started, only to be cut off once again, this time by the sound of a shifter’s voice emerging from behind my back.
“You’re taking a child away from her only living family? For what reason, may I ask?”
I turned, half expecting Liam to have arrived after all. But, instead, Tank stalked forward, looking no more prepossessing than he had when I saw him last. The male’s nose had been broken then reset improperly many years earlier, his eyebrows fuzzed upward to take over half his forehead, and he weighed more than both the cop and the social worker combined. Despite those facts, however, the male’s voice was urbane as he pushed his way into our little grouping, placing one hand possessively upon my back.
“Who are you?” Simon demanded, attempting to separate me from the intruding werewolf. Tank was approximately as movable as a brick wall, however, so the social worker had little luck tearing us apart.
“Ms. Fairchild’s lawyer,” Tank answered easily. He pulled out his billfold, removed a card that did, indeed, list his job title as “Attorney-at-law.” The paper was heavily textured, the letters gold-embossed and well-scripted, and I could see the cop measuring up the likelihood of ending up on the wrong side of a civil case...and finding the odds not at all to his liking. Perhaps that’s why the uniformed officer took one huge step backward, leaving me alone with the social worker and the wolf.
Unfortunately, Simon was less easily intimidated. Sometime between last night and this morning, he’d apparently decided that I was an unfit guardian for a child, and he wasn’t any more willing to back down now. “Social services has the right to withdraw any foster child from temporary custody without notice,” he started.
“And Ms. Fairchild has the right to sue your ass back into the Stone Age,” Tank replied. This time, I could smell the waves of fury radiating off the male shifter, and I wasn’t surprised when Simon’s fight-or-flight instincts kicked in at last. After all, humans might not be aware of the existence of werewolves...but their lizard brains knew how to protect their own skins.
“I’ll be bringing this matter to my supervisor’s attention,” Simon said after one long moment of loaded silence, snatching the business card out from between Tank’s extended fingers. But he didn’t argue the matter further. Just stalked away, leaving me alone with yet another werewolf who’d recently seen me shift into vulpine form.
***
LUCKILY FOR THE SAKE of my skin, Tank seemed even less interested in my secrets than Crow had been earlier. So instead of tearing into me verbally, the male left without another word, fancy business cards spreading through the crowd like confetti as he squared away matters with officer after officer until every Atwood wolf had been released from custody.
Which left me to warm up my chilled sister...who, I belatedly realized, was no longer hovering by my side. I vaguely recalled an EMT pulling Kira away to check her vitals a few minutes earlier. But now the tween was invisible, lost within the milling crowd.
And the number of bystanders appeared to be growing larger by the minute. I didn’t recognize even half the faces around me, suggesting that Ransom’s backup forces had been even more extensive than they’d appeared from my elevated perch in the theater. No wonder Jackal stuffed his driver’s license back into his wallet after a policemen relinquished the rectangle of plastic, glaring at me only once before leading his underlings stiff-leggedly away into the snow.
I had little interest in future battles, though. Instead, I pushed between rock-hard shifters, searching for a sister who resolutely refused to be found. “Kira!” I called, not wanting to bring any more attention to myself than was absolutely necessary but driven to desperation by the absence of a sister who had disappeared without a trace only a day before.
I smelled her before I saw her. Caught a hint of caramelized sugar seconds before a raised hand waving in my direction from the other side of the street. “I’m fine!” Kira told me, voice filled with just as much wounded dignity as if I’d forgotten her age and had warned her to look both ways before crossing the street in front of her sixth-grade compatriots.
And despite everything, my lips curled upward in response. Kira was the ultimate tween, certain of her own abilities and craving independence. I loved the fact that even dangling from a rope in an abandoned theater hadn’t robbed her of that trait.
Unfortunately, my own resilience wasn’t through being tested. Because the search for my sister had drawn the exact sort of attention I’d been hoping to avoid.
“Mai.” My name slid across the crowd like a snake stalking its dinner. And I was pretty sure that in this scenario, I was the featherless baby bird.