Mark of the Harbinger (Book 1)

7 - A Scarf and a Mystery

A sudden thump and a shout woke me just after dawn the next morning.

Groggy and quite a bit miffed, I fumbled for my eyeglasses as Alfie—clothed and stumbling—came down the hall and staggered into the kitchen. From there, I heard the growling Were move about, banging cupboard doors and clinking glasses together before the sounds stopped and the faucet was turned on. 

"Alfie?" I called, noting the crack and waver in my voice from lack of sleep. "You there?" 

The Were stuck his head out into the hall, his hair sticking up on end and his eyes narrowed against the morning sunshine coming in through the windows. "What?" 

"Are you all right?" 

Alfie only growled again and went back to slamming things in the kitchen. I rubbed at my eyes as the events of last night—or, more accurately, this morning—came back to me in florid technicolor. My fingers traced the skin of my neck where Havik had touched it.

"Did Connor leave?" I asked as I stood and shoved my feet into my battered shoes. I was already dressed, having slept in my own clothes while the pack master was here to ensure he wouldn't see any of my scars. I didn't hear him moving about in Alfie's bedroom, where he'd spent the night on the floor, so I had to assume he was gone.

"Yeah, he took off at first light." Alfie came stomping back into the main room, his feet bare and a glass of water. He popped two aspirins into his mouth and took a long drink. "Man, my head's killing me."

"I know I already asked this, but are you all right?" Reaching out with a thin tendril of my talent, I could feel how bristly and agitated Alfie's magic was this morning. Were magic was always green and wild—but this was alert, as if the lion was just waiting for a chance to burst through his skin.

"I'm fine. Didn't sense that rat bastard last night in the woods until the last second." Miffed, Alfie drank the rest of his water. "You didn't have to call Connor, but thanks. I know you were worried about me."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." I patted my pockets, and—finding them empty—groaned. "Hey, can you give me a lift back to my apartment? My wallet is in my office." And possibly plundered. I didn't trust any of my fellow underpaid underlings to forego such a temptation. "And my car's at the university, too. God, I hate vampires."

Alfie laughed, then agreed to take me home. 

The return trip to Roccia Nera only took twenty minutes or so. Alfie's Mustang roared over the barren highway like an unleashed cyclone and dodged any other vehicle that dared get in his way. It was more than a little disconcerting to sit in the car and watch the landscape zip by at a hundred miles an hour as the Were behind the wheel growled out the open window. 

My apartment complex was situated on the east bank, directly overlooking the aqueduct. A wall of grey cinderblocks surrounded the lot and the four-story building, allowing admittance through the one driveway and through the broken bit in the far back corner. It was nestled between the hollowed-out remains of a skyscraper and another, identical complex with a shady convenience store open on the street behind it. 

Overall, it was an eyesore—but an eyesore with cheap rent that I could afford.

"Stop here," I told Alfie before he turned into the drive. The Were gave me a scathing look as he pulled alongside the chipped curb, and I gestured to the posted sign bolted to the outer wall. It read Human Only Residence.

"For a woman who needs to lay low, you sure like to live dangerously," Alfie muttered as he eyed the sign and lowered the visor against the early morning sun. "Most people in your situation would have taken off like I did, found some abandoned hovel in the middle of nowhere and hunkered down out of sight where no one would be any the wiser."