A Wolf at the Door

Ivan looked down at the old homeless man, and I was struck by the odd juxtaposition. Towering Ivan, frost-haired and severe in his black coat, standing over stooped, wizened Felix, who seemed to walk along in his own personal rainbow. I couldn’t help but watch curiously as Felix reached out a hand to rest on the bigger man’s chest, his fingers too gnarled to lie straight. The black man’s smile faded a little, becoming a bit sad around his already worn edges. “I am sorry.”

Ivan nodded. “I am not.”

Felix patted him a few times, fidgeting with Ivan’s shirt buttons like he would tidy them right up, then shuffled away as the doorman came to hustle him off.

I raised a brow at my mentor. “What was that about?”

He didn’t answer me.

It didn’t occur to me at the time to wonder how Felix had known that in his youth, Ivan fought demons with a hammer. A maul, to be precise. And by the time I did think to wonder, I already had my answer.

16

Upstairs, I found Tai crashed out on one couch, his arm draped over his eyes, and Gretchen on the other, her head pillowed in Dante’s lap. No idea just when he’d shown up, but his presence seemed to be doing her good. He smoothed her hair gently, giving me the “don’t you dare wake her up” glare. I just held my hands up. I fully intended to find myself a horizontal position pretty damn quick too.

But first…my conversation with Ivan on the beach kept trickling through my head. A clay man will not bleed, Dawson. For my own peace of mind, I had some testing to do.

Tai wasn’t the golem. That I knew. I mean, magic just oozed out his pores, and the golem had none as far as I could tell. Not to mention that he’d been there tonight when the thing attacked, so that let him out.

Gretchen wasn’t, obviously. Even fully clothed, the tattoos on her back were there, and my skin itched just thinking about it. Almost like I could see them swirling through her T-shirt. Almost like I could hear them crying out.

Dante…well, I suppose I should test him just to be sure, but surely someone would have noticed if he’d been replaced. His expressive face held none of the smooth waxiness I’d come to associate with our centurion friend, and Gretchen was his best friend. If he wasn’t himself, she’d be the one to know. Still, if I tested one, I’d have to test them all. It was only fair.

“Dante, does she have some pins or something around? Sewing kit, maybe?”

He gave me a puzzled look, but nodded toward Gretchen’s room. “On her dresser, should be some. Don’t touch anything.”

I rolled my eyes at him as I went to find something sharp and pointy. Like I was gonna do a panty raid or something, geez.

Gretchen’s room was not nearly as decadent as I’d been imagining. Her bed was covered in stuffed animals and pillows, done in shades of tan and pale blue. Her clothes were strung all over the floor wherever she’d dropped them, and her closet doors stood wide open, revealing heaps of shoes beneath a kaleidoscope of gowns and other garments. Other than the sheer volume of it, it could have been any girl’s room, anywhere.

A huge mirror surrounded by lights crowned a low table on one side, and curiosity made me go check out the pictures tucked around the frame. Gretchen and friends, mostly, Dante appearing in more than half of them, the only sign of the passage of time being the changes in his hairstyle and color. Tai and Bobby were there too, though usually standing sternly in the background, only caught on film by accident. Other people, some famous, some not, all with plastic smiles for their best friend of the moment.

One picture, down toward the bottom, was a school photo of a young blond girl. At first, I thought it was an old one of Gretchen, but looking at the year on it, I realized it had to be the sister. The one who was getting married. Because I’m pushy at heart, I moved the picture up higher on the frame, letting it set at eye level. Maybe seeing that would change Gretchen’s mind about her sister’s nuptials.

On the low table, practically hidden in all the tiny pots and cakes of makeup and hair frillies, I found a small box of safety pins. That’d do nicely. And in her private bathroom, I found a box of bandages and some antiseptic. Perfect. First Aid Man, that’s me.

Gretchen was sitting up when I returned to the living room. “What are you doing?”

“Little test. Just to make sure we’re all who we say we are.” I fished a safety pin out of the box, opening it. “Who wants to go first?” No one was gonna volunteer, but Gretchen and Dante watched closely as I crouched at Tai’s side and jabbed the big Maori in the pad of his thumb. He twitched, grumbled, but didn’t wake up.

A drop of dark red blood welled at the pinprick, and I swabbed it and bandaged it like a good little nurse. “Me next.” Grabbing another pin, I gave myself the same treatment, showing off my bleeding finger to Gretchen and Dante for verification. “See? All human here.”