A Wolf at the Door

“Dude! Man, leggo!” He pried at my hands futilely.

“How did you find me? Who sent you?” With my forearm firmly across his throat, he didn’t really have any choice but to answer my questions. With my free hand, I roughly shoved his coat sleeve up, revealing a forearm bare of any marks. Even though he’d been clear yesterday, it was not what I’d expected to find.

“Dude, I work here! My cousin Leslie is a housekeeper, she got me the job.” The fear in his eyes was slowly replaced with something else, something excited and curious. “Who did you think I was? Are you, like, a spy or something?”

I didn’t answer him, and after a moment I relaxed my hold, stepping back. He’d passed through my warded door without incident, but…“Stand right there. Don’t make any sudden moves.”

Spencer held his hands up. “Sure, man, anything you say.” We watched each other closely as I backed my way to the bedside table where my collection of gadgets lay discarded.

Pressing Cam’s danger disk to the man’s forehead resulted in nothing remarkable, but he nearly went cross-eyed trying to see what I was doing. “What does that do?”

“Right now, it keeps you from getting your ass kicked.” If the thing was working, this guy wasn’t any kind of danger to me. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I finally let him go, but I refused to put my back to him. “I didn’t order breakfast.”

Spencer advanced slowly, making sure I could see his hands at all times, and picked up a slip of paper from the cart. “Standing order for this room. You’ll have breakfast every morning, unless you cancel it.”

“Who requested it?”

“Doesn’t say, so probably whoever set up the room reservation?”

Somehow, I wouldn’t have expected Axel to order me breakfast. It was more than a little odd. I lifted one of the metal lids to find a heaping pile of bacon and sausage and a couple of eggs over easy, just the way I liked them. I almost sent it back right then, out of sheer spite. Axel didn’t deserve to know me that well.

Still, bacon was bacon. I munched on a piece, figuring if it was poisoned, I’d at least die happy. “So…giving up on screenwriting already?”

Spencer chuckled. “Nah. Just gotta eat between now and my multimillion-dollar deal. Figure pushing a cart is better than digging ditches, right?”

“If you say so.”

“It’s weird that you’re here, ’cause I was just thinking about you this morning.” He picked up a folded newspaper off the cart, flipping to one of the inner sections, and offered it to me. “You made the news.”

My heart sank as I found my own picture gracing the front page of the entertainment section. The headline read GRETCHEN KEENE’S MYSTERY DATE, and the picture was obviously one from the club last night. Probably one from the photographer I’d flattened, judging by the background. “Fuck.”

Spencer grinned. “I was trying to tell my cousin I knew that guy, and she didn’t believe me. Can’t wait to tell her you’re up here. How long have you been seeing Gretchen Keene?”

“I’m not.” Mira was gonna kill me. I prayed to all higher powers that this didn’t make it back to Missouri. “Just doing a job.” I skimmed the article a little. Most of it was wild speculation, though there was a rather lengthy mention of me attacking the poor guy with the camera. He was magnanimously declining to press charges.

“Like what kind of job?” I could tell that Spencer had dreams of intrigue and scandal running through his head.

“Don’t you have other orders to deliver?”

“Oh, yeah. Probably.” He stared at me for a few moments.

“What?”

“You gonna tip?”

“Get out.” I threw the newspaper at him as he retreated.

This was so not how I wanted to start my day. Even half a pound of bacon and a long hot shower didn’t really perk me up any. My shirt for the day said STICK THAT IN YOUR JUICE BOX AND SUCK IT, and that was really how I felt about things so far. Last night had left me grumpy and annoyed and feeling increasingly useless here. As near as I could tell, Gretchen was just fine. Could I go home now please?

When another knock sounded at my door, I just knew it was Spencer, probably with the entire kitchen staff in tow. “Hey, I know! Let’s go gawk at the sideshow freak!” I threw the door open, ready to rip his annoying head off, only to find another employee standing there with a two-wheeled dolly bearing my armor and sword case. “You were expecting these, sir?”

“Oh. Yes, I was.” Him, I tipped.

It felt good to have my gear again. I unpacked everything, double- and triple-checking it even though I’d just had my hands on it yesterday morning. The metal still tingled under my fingers, evidence of Cam’s good work.

The Way had travelled well it seemed. I went through a few slow strikes with the new sword, feeling the differences between it and my original. Heavier on the back end, but it seemed to fit well with my own personal fighting style. As I held it, the bone hilt warmed in my hand.