Mechanicking took my full concentration, letting my worries about the fae and Adams exwife fade in the face of a problem I could actually do something about.
The Beetle had been worked on by amateurs for decades, and the bolt that was turning so reluctantly was a victim of years of abuse. Her edges were more suggestions than actual corners, making getting her out of the 59 Beetle a little tricky. So far I hadnt had to resort to the Easy Out, and I was starting to get optimistic about my chances of success.
Someone cleared their throat tentatively and scared the bejeebers out of methough I managed not to jump. He was standing behind mea strange man, who was also a strange werewolf, my nose told me belatedly. Thankfully, hed stayed back, waiting just outside the open garagebay door.
Tad was twenty feet away in the office and the stranger was probably only a customer whod come around to the open garage bays instead of to the office. It happened all the time. I was perfectly safe. Reason didnt have much effect on my spiking heartbeat and the shaft of terror that was my bodys reaction to being startled by a strange man in my garage.
Id been assaulted a while ago. Just when I thought I was over it, some stupid little thing would bring it back.
I nodded stiffly at him, then visibly focused on the job ahead, no matter where my panicky attention really was. I kept talking to the bolt, finding the soothing tones surprisingly useful even if they were my own. I fought to regain control by the time the bolt came out. Every twist, I told myself, meant I had to calm a little more. To my relief, the silly exercise workedsix twists of the wrench, and I was no longer on the verge of shaking, tears, and (more rare, but what it lacked in frequency it made up for in humiliation) throwing up on a perfect stranger.
I set the wrench down and turned with a smile to face him. He had stayed right where he had beenat a polite and safe distance. He didnt look directly at me, eitherhe was a werewolf, hed know that I had panicked, but hed allowed me to save face. Points to him for courtesy.
He was neither tall nor short for a man and carried himself pulled tightly toward his core. Arms in, shoulders in, head tipped down. His hair was curly and pulled back in a short ponytail. He looked as though he could use a good meal and a pat on the head.
Im looking for a place to be, he said. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder that looked as old as the Beetle I was repairing. Maybe it was.
Several years ago, another werewolf had approached me at the garage, looking for a place to be. He was dead.
I nodded at this new wolf, to show him
that I heard him and that I was not rejecting his almost request. But between panic attack and memory, words were beyond me at the moment.
I called the home number of the local Alpha. Hed given me time to talk and sounded a little stressed when he had to break the silence. The girl that answered sent me here when I told her I didnt have easy means of transport out that far. The city bus got me over here. He glanced over his shoulder as if hed rather have been anywhere else. It dawned on me that the reason he wasnt looking me in the face had more to do with him than with my almostpanic attack. I drift, you know? Dont like to stay anywhere long. Im bottom of the pack, so that means I dont cause no trouble.
His American accent was Pacific Northwest, but there was something about the rhythm of his words that made me think that English was not his native tongue, though he was comfortable in it. Bottom of the pack, like his averted eyes, meant submissive wolf: they tended to live longer than other werewolves because they werent so likely to end up on the losing end of a fight to the death. Submissive wolves also got to travel because no Alpha would turn down a submissive wolfthere werent many of them, and they tended to help a pack function more smoothly.
Honeys mate, Peter, who had been killed a few months ago, had been our only submissive after Able Tankersley left. A wolf Id only been barely acquainted with, Able had taken a job offer in San Francisco. It was not only the violence of Peters death but his absence that was affecting the pack. A new submissive wolf would be welcome.
Bran send you to us? I asked.
Hell no, he said, with emphasis. Though he gave me a list of numbers when I told him I was drifting this way. Neither of us knew I would end up here at the time. He looked out the garage door, again, at the bare beginnings of spring. Dont think Ill stay here long, though. Hope you dont take it amiss. I dont generally stay where its hot, and I heard tell at the bus depot that this place gets scorching in the summer.
Thats fine. Do you need a place to stay?
He gave my garage a dubious look, and I laughed. I dont know how much you know. Im Mercy Hauptman, and my husbands the Alpha here. We have extra bedrooms at homethat are open to pack members who need them. Maybe with another visitor, the effects of Christys stay would be diluted.