Shifting Life

26. Messengers

"You two need to cool the fuck down," the grizzled old man said. "Don't try anything shifty, Bonnie. I'm just the messenger." His horse voice left a raspy echo in the concrete corridor.

"Then put the gun away," Matt said.

"Zip it, Clyde."

"You're a blind man in a confined space. Two of us, one of you. Bullets will ricochet like crazy."

Matt was all steely reason.

"Give me your word you won't open that smart mouth of yours and I'll put it away," the man said. "But that means you shut up till I'm done delivering the message. Or I will curse you. I got friends in high places, you know."

"Okay."

"Your word of honor, your miserable thieving son of a bitch."

Matt gave his word.

The old man put the gun away. He walked past them, taking the lead again, one hand brushing the wall.

"For the record, I wasn't going to use it," he said. "I showed it to make you understand this is serious—" The old man stumbled on an abandoned soda can. He cursed long and hard, while the can made racket.

"How about helping an old man out, Bonnie? You be my eyes till we get there."

Jacklyn let him take her arm.

They continued down the corridor toward a second steel door. She still couldn't read the man. He was blank as a great white wall. His gnarly hand sat on her arm like a hairy tarantula.

"I'm not blind," he grumbled. "Not normally. But the dude channeling me, well, that's how the fucker manifests."

It didn't make sense. What blind powers was there?

"Justice?" Jacklyn said.

The old man burst into laughter. He laughed so hard they had to stop. His wheezy fits echoed in the corridor, merry like a Christmas jingle.

Finally, he pulled himself together. It took effort. Snorts bubbled under his breath. He wiped his eyes under the dark glasses.

"Oh, man," he said, breathing hard. "I see why I got summoned. You're totally fucking clueless."

* * *

Ursula Pentti declined the seat the Visionary had offered. She preferred standing up, better point of view and it made her look taller than her already impressive 6 feet.

The office was large with a wide window and a breathtaking view of the bay below. Yellow silk curtains adorned the windows and two tall yellow Chinese urns stood guard by the fireplace. The Visionary had a thing for yellow.

"I offer my services," Ursula said. "We hear you have an Italian problem."

The Visionary kept his hazel gaze on her, but said nothing. He wore a cream-colored linen suit and a shirt the color of marigolds that complemented his brown skin tone. His short cropped hair was too black to be natural for a man his age.

Vain old bastard, Ursula thought.

"We hear he's not alone," she continued.

The Visionary drew a deep breath and rose from the desk. He matched her 6 inches and then some.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Ursula nodded.

"Then this visit is just a heads up," she said. "Finders, keepers. Keepers of missing things."

She pulled a business card from her breast pocket and placed it on the big man's desk.

"In case you change your mind," she said. "Have a good day."

Ursula left the building smiling.

It was true. The Venetian still had the goods. The mirror coat had been made with skins from Ursula's clan. The Visionary had no right to it, never had. The coat belonged to them.

Thanks for the tip, Veronica.

Ursula walked down the steep Hyde Street toward the shoreline, sniffing salt water in the air as she got closer. Images of wild salmon racing in the river took over in her mind. Her favorite food. She licked her lips.

Homes turned into houses with first floor shops. Ursula admired her reflection in the shop windows. A tall strong woman with pale skin, sharp cheekbones and slanted blue eyes. The Finnish gene pool dominated her human form. She looked good as a human. Ursula preferred her other form, but when in Rome...

The various alliances, clans, groups and flocks of the local community had joined forces and set up a border to the south. The rest of the city was surrounded by the dark unquiet waters. Unless the Venetian's magic horse could fly, the thief and his mount were trapped in San Francisco.

She texted Kuma, telling him to get the cubs ready. Veronica had given Ursula all the cubs needed in a zip lock back; half of a light blue towel reeking of both the Venetian and the hooved one.

The world around Ursula looked clearer and sounds were suddenly more distinct. Smells were sharper, floating in trails she could almost touch.

She opened the zip lock back and inhaled the thief's scent deeply. She could already taste his flesh, feeling it tear under her sharp teeth.

Ursula licked her lips. She loved a good hunt.