August, so he sent me to get her. He wanted her to make the puppies—”
“Pups.”
“Whatever. The point is he wanted to see his grandchildren.”
I’m not surprised that August wouldn’t accept that the four pups playing Bite the Ear and Chase the Tail could be his descendants. He wanted his grandchildren with fingers and words, playing Parcheesi.
“I’ve seen death come for a lot of people, but this was the first time that I’d seen someone come for death. Varya knew she was alone, drugged, outnumbered, and outgunned, but she kept coming. If I had let them kill her, I would never have another chance at finding out what was worth dying for.”
He smooths the growth bristling on his cheeks with one hand.
“Did she tell you?”
“No. But she told me her name and I feel like that was something.”
Chapter 8
Constantine
I worked a commercial trawler once. When I say “worked,” I mean “slept,” trying to keep dried crackers from fleeing the confines of my otherwise empty stomach, until the Coast Guard showed up with their sweeping powers to board any boat and the captain needed all hands to make it look like we were actually what we pretended to be.
I pinballed around the cabin and up on the waterlogged deck. A rope was thrust into my hands and I was told to pull.
Rain whipped sideways across a deck that pitched and rolled. Visibility was nil. I stood ankle deep in flapping fish while more came flying over the front at head height.
I wake up from that dreamed memory, the deck still pitching and rolling, except there is no rain and Tiberius is standing in front of me.
“What?”
“I said, ‘We have a job.’ Here.” He tosses a towel-wrapped packet toward me. “I brought you some breakfast.
“I don’t have a job anymore, remember? Boss developed throat trouble.”
I start to peel back the towel. Whatever’s inside smells like cinnamon.
“Just get dressed. I’ve got two bodies that aren’t getting any fresher. We need to get them to Allagash before they stink up the car.”
Mmm. And butter.
“I graduated from cleanup a long time ago. Let Cassius do it.”
I lick the sugar from the top of one.
“Cassius is a conniving little shit who thinks he’s smarter than he is. I need someone who knows what he’s doing.”
“Since I’m currently unemployed, it’s good to know I’ve got something to put on my CV: ‘versed in intimidation, extermination, and efficient disposal of remains. For referrals, check with the Great North—’”
“I forgot how much humans talk,” he says, heading toward the door. “And take the sweatshirt. You’re going to need it.”
There is a navy-blue sweatshirt with frayed cuffs in the pile of clothes the Alpha left on the desk. I pick it up, feeling it soft and much washed in my hands.
“Ti, wait… Was this the Alpha’s idea? Letting me go to help you.”
“No, it was my idea and to be clear”—he pushes the red-and-black-checked wool shirt back, showing the textured handle of his gun—“no one is letting you go.”
I don’t care about the gun or being let go, but the thought that the Alpha might have seen dead bodies and that she’d told Tiberius to take the Shifter, the one with so much blood on his hands, because this is the kind of thing he’d be good at made a spot under my sternum ache.
“Any coffee to go with this?”
“No, but we’ll get water on the way.” He taps something hollow in his breast pocket.
“Water” turns out to be a stream. The hollow thing is a flask, which he fills and throws to me before leaning down, the blade of his hand holding back the leaves, and drinking straight from the stream.
I knew Tiberius from the beginning. When he was born and when he was small and when his teeth came in. First two flat little teeth at the bottom, then flat little teeth on the top. Some more flat little teeth to the side, then slightly before he turned two, his canines came in right on schedule only they didn’t stop. August had already killed the human nanny who had seen his son turn into a puppy one day and hadn’t stopped screaming.
Eventually, August had trained him never to turn into a puppy, which was very hard. After that, training him never to smile came easy.
Now when Tiberius straightens up, his fangs glisten unhidden. Water drops from the tips, disappearing in the trickling stream.
“We better get going,” he says, and within seconds, he has turned into a vanishingly small spot