“Make that a Coke,” Vivian said.
Brenda winked. “Want me to goose that?”
Vivian shook her head. “Nah. The old lady needs to keep her job.”
“Old lady!” Esmé squealed, and Brenda left giggling.
It wasn’t until they were wiping the crumbs from their mouths that more members of the pack came drifting in, some still yawning from after-work naps, others ready to raise the devil. Tooley’s was the place to go, the place to find out where the party was.
Most of the wolf-kind came to Vivian and Esmé’s table and greeted them. There was no new leader yet, and Esmé was the widowed queen.
And a tasty morsel, too, Vivian thought. She could see it in the eyes of the males and the tight smiles of their mates. A female on the loose was a dangerous creature; she could challenge another bitch for a male she fancied. Some of those male eyes strayed to Vivian, too, and she preened at the thought of being a threat. She and Esmé exchanged knowing looks, their lips plump, curved, and smug.
The group around the TV was larger now, swelled by wolf-kind. Two were males who’d run with Astrid. A cheer went up. The game had turned.
Vivian noted a couple of bikers sauntering over to their table. It was the same two from the other night-Skull and his sidekick.
They never learn, she thought.
Before the bikers reached the table Bucky was there with two of his buddies-Esmé’s age-mates still in their prime. They loomed, they tightened their fists to make their biceps bulge, and they grinned a toothy invitation. The bikers swerved and headed for the exit instead. It was no secret which males usually won any barroom brawl at Tooley’s.
As the bikers reached the door it slammed open and they parted hastily to either side.
Lucien Dafoe came stumbling through. He was a mess. Blood covered half his face and still dripped from a gash on his forehead. He clutched his left arm, which dangled uselessly from his side. His shirt front was in tatters, and whatever had shredded it had also shredded his chest. Cotton stuck in the wounds like papier-mâché.
Esmé rose and Vivian with her, her claws unsheathing, heart pounding. Whoever attacked them, she’d be ready. Around the room the pack stood.
“What the fuck happened to you, man?” Skull asked. The other biker gawked through the door. He flinched when a howling devil stormed in-Astrid.
“You coward!” she shrieked at Lucien. “You piece of shit!”
The bikers looked at each other, shock giving way to sniggers.
“What’s going on here?” Tooley stepped in front of the bar, a scarred old baseball bat in his hands. A couple of regulars moved to back him. “I don’t want you bringing trouble into my place,” Tooley said.
“Chill, man,” said Bucky. “Family business.” He pointed a finger at the bikers and they left in a hurry.
“I’ll get you for laughing,” Lucien called after them. It was more whine than threat.
The pack drew in from around the room and circled Astrid and Lucien.
“Come on,” said Esmé, gripping Vivian’s arm tight with excitement, and they joined the others.
Two human women slipped hurriedly out the door. A man trailed after them, casting curious glances back. Some of the others around the bar looked like they would be happy to follow.
“Who did this?” Esmé asked for all of them.
“Who do you think, you asshole?” Astrid spat, and Vivian wanted to smack her.
“Gabriel,” Lucien said, almost blubbering. “That bastard, Gabriel.”
A hum swept around the circle.
Am I responsible for the state he’s in?
Vivian wondered. She felt slightly sick.
“Why would Gabriel do that?” Bucky demanded.
“‘Cus he’s power mad,” Astrid said. “He wants to beat us into following him. Do you want a leader who’d treat us that way?”
Vivian would have agreed with her any other time, but it was Astrid who had risked exposing the whole pack. That was worse than being a bully. She couldn’t lead a run that size in the suburbs and expect no one to notice, and if humans noticed…Vivian looked around at the humans anxiously. This was too public.
Esmé echoed her thoughts. “This isn’t the place, Astrid.”
“Who cares what you think, bitch?” Astrid answered.
“I do,” said Bucky. His eyes were narrow and dangerous, his clean-shaven face now slightly shadowed. More than half the circle muttered agreement.
Lucien grabbed his side, moaned, and collapsed to the floor. He sat there looking vaguely surprised, a bubble of blood at the corner of his mouth.
“Ain’t one of you gonna get him to a hospital?” Tooley called over.
“Yeah, come on,” Vivian agreed. They should get out of there before someone phoned the police. They wouldn’t be going to the hospital, though; they would take him to Aunt Persia.
One of Bucky’s friends put his hands under Lucien’s armpits and hauled him up. Bucky grabbed Lucien’s legs. They carried him to the door.
The door where Gabriel stood.
Bucky stopped dead. “Hey, man,” he said quietly.
Gabriel only nodded. He stood there a moment longer, silent and dark against the glare of a streetlight outside. His fathomless eyes took in the people around the room, daring anyone to challenge him.
“It’s not healthy to party with Astrid right now,” he finally said in his subterranean growl. “I’d advise against it.”
Vivian checked out the others who’d run with Astrid. Their faces were pale and grim. She almost felt sorry for them.
What now? she thought, but when she looked back at the door, Gabriel was gone.
“Where are you going, looking so pretty?” Esmé asked.
“I’m meeting Aiden,” Vivian told her.
The smile left Esmé’s face. “Baby, I know you’re lonely for kids your own age, but I wish you’d be careful. If you gotta wag your tail, wag it for one of the Five.”
“The Five are jerks.”
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