He hesitated. “I’m not complaining, Red. I’ll play fetch with you. But why aren’t you doing it, if you’re just going to be home?”

“I’ll explain when you arrive. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said brightly. “It’ll be about five-thirty or six by the time I make it through traffic and get to your place, so I’ll just go ahead and pick up something for us to eat. See you then.” He hung up before I could protest.

Chapter 6

After I dug more change out of my purse, I checked the planner again and dialed up another wære. “Good afternoon,” a warm, alto voice said in a formal business tone. “You’ve reached Revelations. I’m Theodora. How may I help you?”

“Theo, it’s Persephone.”

Silence, then: “I know about Lorrie,” she said.

“Yeah. I heard too.” I couldn’t rush into the reason for my call; it would be too callous. “Did Celia call you?”

“She called every wære in the county, I think.”

“Is there reason to think more wæres will be targeted?” According to Vivian, that was a no, but how were the wæres taking this?

“It does appear to be a hate crime, so I guess, but…”

“But what?”

“I know people, Seph. Wæres take care of their own, and they’ve already hit dead ends on the info trail. I don’t think they’ll be able to do much with this one, and it really makes me mad. Lorrie was…my friend.” She sounded like she was going to cry and, for tough Theo, that meant something. “Thanks for calling, Seph.”

I knew she wanted to end the conversation and dry her eyes, but I had a reason for calling other than what she thought. “Theo, actually, I called to hire you.” She co-owned a business that performed background checks on people.

“Oh? What can I do for you?” She’d relaxed into the friend voice.

“I need you to check the name ‘Goliath Kline’ for me. Whatever you can find. Address, history, membership in clubs, anything at all.”

I heard her typing in the background. “Is that a K or a C?”

“Not sure.” Vivian had spoken it, not written it.

“Any aka’s?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Birthday?”

“Not a clue.”

“Hmmm. I usually need a birth date to clarify that I have the right person, but I’m willing to bet there’s not many guys named Goliath running around.”

“I’m with you on that one.”

“Soooo…should I tell Johnny to watch out ’cause he’s got some competition?”

“No! It’s nothing like that. It’s…it’s for work.”

“You dropping names in your column now?” she teased.

“No. I just need some info on this guy…for another, uh, job.”

“Is he a local fella?”

An assassin wouldn’t root himself anywhere long enough to be a local, would he? But this guy was connected to WEC. Since there were only five U.S. groves (they officially call their groups “groves” as opposed to “covens” because they like to think of their authority as lofty, like tree branches), and Ohio was part of the Chicago grove, I answered, “I doubt it. Probably has connections in Chicago.” What was I going to say if she got enough info to guess at his profession? Damn, I didn’t want to start having to make up lies. “Bill me?”

“Sure. I know where you live.” Her throaty laugh came in a series of little barks.

“How long does this take, usually?”

“Mmmm, well, since I’m such an overachiever,” she said sarcastically, because I had accused her of such on more than one occasion, “my afternoon work was done this morning, so I’ll probably have it tonight or tomorrow. Depends on whether his non-localness gives me problems. What’s your time frame for this? You want me to snail-mail it, e-mail it, or bring it out next moon?”

“Can you call me with details as soon as you can? If you have time, that is.”

“Well, since you’re my friend and all, I suppose I can make an exception.” We both giggled.

I considered the wæres my friends, but I didn’t feel truly close to any of them except Celia, because she and I had roomed together in college. To hear Theo call me her friend gave me a warm feeling inside. This day was making me feel quite fragile when it came to personal relationships. “Thanks, Theo.”

“Any time.”

Back in the Avalon with a newly filled tank, I drove on to a little strip mall. I took my time picking out some bread and cheese in the mini-mart, then added a can of tomato soup. Dinner for both Nana and me was easy and cost less than six bucks.

While cooking, I started thinking about my meditation. Totems were always giving cryptic answers. It was important not to think too intensely about it right away; I tended to “read into” it if I didn’t get a little distance and reflect on the information slowly. The longer I stood there considering what Amenemhab had said, the more I realized that he’d left me with questions I hadn’t had before I meditated. I mean, hell, was he saying I had a Rede-breaker in my family tree, or an assassin? Or both?

That thought caused me to burn the first toasted cheese sandwich.

“I hate the smell of burnt toast,” Nana said, coming into the kitchen fanning at the smoke and coughing. She never coughed from cigarette smoke.

Of course when I saw her and that beehive hairdo, I almost laughed. Despite the totem’s allusion, there was no assassin blood in me. Had to be a Rede-breaker. But I wondered what Nana could have done to break the Rede. My nana was many things, but she took her witchcraft very seriously. I doubted she had ever broken the Rede. Though my ancestry boasted a long, traceable line of impressive witch heritage, I didn’t know much about any specific ancestors. I might have to investigate. The Rede-breaker was probably my mother.

Through the Styrofoam sound insulation that Celia and I had inexpertly installed in the cellar ceiling, I could hear the pup barking.

“Sorry,” I said to Nana.

“Just make another.” She reached for the loaf of bread.

“No, Nana. I’m sorry I got angry about Poopsie.”

Hope filled her eyes. “I can keep him?”

“I guess. He has to take obedience training, though. He’s going to be huge.”

She sighed dramatically. “I’m sure he’s almost fully grown.”

“Nana.” I put the spatula down. “He’s a Great Dane. He’ll be this high at the shoulder.” I showed her again.

Her eyes widened. “You’re not exaggerating, are you?”

“No.”

“As big as a wærewolf?”

I nodded. “But a little leaner and with sleeker fur.”

She went to the dinette table and backed into the chair she’d decided was hers. “I thought you were exaggerating. Before, in the living room.” Her old fingers curled the place mat. “I didn’t realize he’d be so big, Seph. I…I can’t take him back. They’re moving away.”

“I didn’t ask you to take him back.” “They” must’ve been desperate to let an old lady take such a soon-to-be-behemoth dog.

The toasted cheese sandwiches got made in silence, except for the sound of the microwave dinging when the tomato soup finished heating. I sat on the bench across from Nana, and we ate. She flipped through the mail I’d brought in. “This one’s for you. You had classes with her, didn’t you?”

I checked the return address. My high school friend Nancy Malcovich.

“Yeah. Great.” My lack of enthusiasm made my sarcasm glisten.

“What?”

“This means she doesn’t trust a live phone conversation.” I put the envelope down, determined to let it wait until I’d had my dinner. It’s easy to decide to ignore letters when you’re sure they’re bad, like bills you don’t have the funds to pay. But, as with bills you don’t have the funds to pay, you can’t resist opening a letter and seeing how bad it is. I ripped the envelope and pulled out the smooth, slightly marbled tan paper. The cross design printed on the letterhead didn’t surprise me. Nancy had found Jesus and been “saved” a year ago.