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Only At Night update
🕑 Added 2019-06-30 19:00:00 +0000 UTC
Richard didn’t look like the alpha of a werewolf pack. He didn’t look like a used car salesman either, though he was both. He was on the short side, a few inches under me, with thick glasses cloaking his eyes. His hair was cut short and unremarkable, and his face had pleasant features, but nothing that would get him on a magazine. If he were in a movie, he’d be an extra. Handsome enough, but lacking the charisma to invest it with that certain something.
Of course, who was I to talk? He wore khakis, a windbreaker, and a sports watch, all of them competently made but not extravagant. While his clothes weren’t tight, I noticed a bulge of muscles at his thighs and shoulders. Although he seemed thin and moved casually, there was power behind his slender build. Maybe he had been bitten by a greyhound werewolf, or however that worked.
“Let me do the talking,” Carina said one last time as he came in. We’d walked into the used car place, been told they were closing, but Carina had dropped Richard’s name and said to tell him she was asking for him. That kind of thing seemed to work when you were a beautiful woman.
Next thing I knew, we were here in the little office salesmen used to close deals. There was a tasteful but anonymous collection of awards and photos on walls, in display cases. Thanks from the local library for sponsoring a book drive, that kind of thing.
Carina rose as Richard approached us and I followed suit. “Ulfric,” Carina said deferentially, bowing her head. I had no idea what that meant, but from the foreign-sounding vowels and respectful enunciation, I was guessing it was some variant on ‘sir’. She extended her hand. Richard took it, but didn’t shake, instead inclining his head over hers and smelling the crown of her head. I knew it was probably a werewolf thing—more dignified than smelling someone’s butt, certainly—but all I could think was great, we’re getting help from Joe Biden.
They broke away and Richard turned to me. He offered his hand, his eyes drinking me in. Behind his thick glasses they were opaque, placid, but I felt a shift in him—like he had somehow recognized my derision. His handshake squeezed with impressive force; not because he crushed my hand, but because he seemed to grip with just enough strength to really get my attention.
He let go of my hand and looked away. It was an effective little display. I stopped doubting that he could help us. They didn’t make you alpha of a pack because you sent in enough proof of purchase.
“Always nice to meet your friends, Carina,” he commented, circling around to sit behind his desk. “Especially considering you haven’t met all of your pack—”
“I’m not in the pack,” Carina said quickly, sitting down herself.
“That’s not what it says on paper.” Richard looked to me. “Moral support?”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Carina said. “Ivan.”
“Ivan what?” Richard asked. “Does he speak for himself?”
“Ivan Dimitrov Grigorovich,” I said. I felt Carina’s eyes burning into me, but the guy had been talking right at me. What was I supposed to do, pretend to be a mute? “I don’t have a very good speaking voice.”
“A human,” Richard remarked. His nostrils flared. “Odd scent, though. What shampoo do you use?”
“We’re not here to play games,” Carina put in sharply.
“You never are,” Richard sighed. “What can I do for you, besides put you behind the wheel of a 1990 Toyota Camry, only driven by a little old lady to church on Sundays?”
“We have a problem we need to go away,” Carina said.
“How big a problem?”
“A van.”
Richard smiled. “I always told you, you should trade up from that thing.” He eyed me for a moment as he said it. “What happened to it?”
“It was in a collision,” Carina said guilelessly.
“Any deaths?”
“No one died.”
“Where is it now?”
“My place.”
Richard nodded. “You work nights, right? Are you usually up by now?”
Carina checked her watch. “Usually. I have an hour or so before I have to get to work.”
Richard opened up a drawer in his desk. He brought up a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. “Here’s what you’re going to do,” he said as he opened the bottle and poured for us. “You’re going to drink oh, a third of the bottle let’s say. Then go back to your place. You’re going to call the cops and report it stolen. You and your friend here had a late night, you slept in, maybe called in late to work. It took you a while to drag yourselves out of bed, but finally you noticed your van wasn’t in the driveway. You didn’t have time to file a report, you needed to get to work. Hire an Uber to take you there, wait until your lunch break or whatever, then call the cops, explain everything. By then the van will be taken care of.”
Carina nodded her head. “Thanks.” And she reached for her glass of bourbon.
“What about—“ I coughed. “What about… payback?”
“Payback?” Richard asked, regarding me curiously.
When I looked at him, his eyes didn’t seem dull or unthinking. More endless: the unfathomable mystery of a wolf’s instincts glowing in the night. The look of a wolf as it decided whether to eat you or not.
“Because she’s not part of the pack, yes?” Richard continued. “Since I’m doing something for her, she needs to do something for me?” He glanced at Carina and mouthed ‘human’. “Stripping the van for parts will put some change in my pocket. And, since you’re in the market for a new or gently used vehicle—“ He gestured about himself. “Does that seem equitable to you, Ivan? Or is there you’re not telling me?”
“I just didn’t want us to owe you a favor,” I said.
“You shouldn’t.”
Comments
Shendude
Huh, that was short and felt kinda disjointed. I think I missed something somewhere?
