Tapping the Dream Tree (30 page)

“So if you bite me, I won't become a wolf.”

“I don't know where those stories come from,” I started, then sighed. “No, that's not true. I do know. These days most of us just like to fit in, live a bit in your world, a bit in the animal world. But it wasn't always like that. There have always been those among us who considered everyone else in the world their private prey. Humans and animals.”

“Most of you?”

I sighed again. “There are still some that like to hunt.”

You're probably wondering why I was listening to all of this without much surprise. But you see, that grotty little dwarf I told you about earlier—the one that moved in on me—did I mention he also had the habit of just disappearing, poof, like magic? One moment you're talking to him, the next you're standing in a seemingly empty room. The disembodied voice was the hardest to get used to. He'd sit around and tell me all kinds of stories like this. You experience something like that on a regular basis and you end up with more tolerance for weirdness.

Not that I actually believed Lyle here was a werewolf. But the fact that he was talking about it actually made him kind of interesting, though I could see it getting old after a while.

“So,” I said. “What do you do when you're not dating human girls and running around as a wolf?”

“Do?”

“You know, to make a living. Or were you born wealthy as well as immortal.”

“I'm not immortal.”

“So what do you do?”

“I'm … an investment counselor.”

“Hence the nice suit.”

He started to nod, then sighed. When he looked down at his latté, I studied his jaw. It seemed to protrude a little more than I remembered, though I knew that was just my own imagination feeding on all his talk about clans of animals that walk around looking like people.

He lifted his head. “How come you're so calm about all of this?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. I like the way it all fits together, I suppose. You've obviously really thought it all through.”

“Or I'm good at remembering the history of the clans.”

“That, too. But the question that comes to my mind is, why tell me all of this?”

“I'm still asking myself that,” he said. “I guess it came from your saying we should be honest with each other. It feels good to be able to talk about it to someone outside the clans.”

He paused, those dark eyes studying me more closely. Oh, why couldn't he have just been a normal guy? Why did he have to be either a loony, or some weird faerie creature?

“You don't believe me,” he said.

“Well…”

“I didn't ask for proof when you were telling me about your comic books.”

I couldn't believe this.

“It's hardly the same thing. Besides—”

I got up and fetched one of the freebie copies of
In the City
from their display bin by the door. Flipping almost to the back of the tabloid-sized newspaper, I laid open the page with my weekly strip, “Spunky Grrl,” on the table in front of him. This was the one where my heroine, the great and brave Spunky Grrl, was answering a personal ad. Write from your life, they always say. I guess that meant that next week's strip would have Spunky sitting in a Café with a wolf dressed up as a man.

“It's not so hard to prove,” I said, pointing at the byline.

“Just because you have the same name—”

“Oh, please.” I called over to the bar where the owner was reading one of those glossy British music magazines he likes so much. “Who am I, Jonathan?”

He looked up and gave the pair of us a once-over with that perpetually cool and slightly amused look he'd perfected once the Café had become a success and he was no longer run ragged trying to keep up with everything.

“Mona Morgan,” he said. “Who still owes me that page of original art from ‘My Life as a Bird' that featured the Half Kaffe.”

“It's coming,” I said and turned back to my date. “There. You see? Now it's your turn. Make your hand change into a paw or something.”

She was irrepressible and refreshing, but she was also driving me a little crazy and I could feel my teeth pressing up against my lips.

“Maybe some other time,” I said.

She smiled. “Right. Never turn into a wolf on the first date.”

“Something like that,” I replied, remembering Tyrone's advice earlier in the evening. I wondered what she'd make of that, but decided not to find out. Instead I looked down at her comic strip.

It was one of those underground ones, not clean like a regular newspaper strip but with lots of scratchy lines and odd perspectives.There wasn't a joke either, just this wild-looking girl answering a personal ad. I looked up at my date.

“So I'm research?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Everything that happens to me ends up in one strip or another.”

I pointed at the character in the strip. “And is this you?”

“Kind of an alter ego.”

I could see myself appearing in an upcoming installment, turning into a wolf in the middle of the date. The idea bothered me. I mean, think about it. If you were a skinwalker, would you want the whole world to know it?

I lifted my gaze from the strip. This smart-looking woman bore no resemblance to her scruffy pen-and-ink alter ego.

“So who cleaned you up?” I asked.

I know the idea of showing up in her strip was troubling me, but that was still no excuse for what I'd just said. I regretted the words as soon as they spilled out of my mouth.

The hurt in her eyes was quickly replaced with anger. “A
human
being,” she said and stood up.

I started to stand as well. “Look, I'm sorry—” I began but I was already talking to her back.

“You owe me for the lattés!” the barman called as I went to follow her.

I paid him and hurried outside, but she was already gone. Slowly I went back inside and stood at our table. I looked at the rose and the open paper. After a moment, I folded up the paper and went back outside. I left the rose there on the table.

I could've tracked her—the scent was still strong—but I went home instead to the apartment Tyrone and I were sharing. He wasn't back yet from wherever he'd gone tonight, which was just as well. I wasn't looking forward to telling him about how the evening had gone. Changing from my suit to jeans and a jersey, I sat down on the sofa and opened my copy of
In the City
to Mona's strip. I was still staring at the scruffy little blonde cartoon girl when the phone rang.

As soon as I got outside, I made a quick beeline down the alley that runs alongside the Café, my boots clomping on the pavement. I didn't slow down until I got to the next street and had turned onto it. I didn't bother looking for a phone booth. I knew Sue would pick me up, but I needed some downtime first and it wasn't that long a walk back home. Misery's supposed to love company, but the way I was feeling it was still too immediate to share. For now, I needed to be alone.

I suppose I kind of deserved what he'd said—I had been acting all punky and pushing at him. But after a while the animal people business had started to wear thin, feeling more like an excuse not to have a real conversation with me rather than fun. And then he'd been just plain mean.

Sue was going to love my report on tonight's fiasco. Not.

I'm normally pretty good about walking about on my own at night—not fearless like my friend Jilly, but I'm usually only going from my local subway stop or walking down well-frequented streets. Tonight, though …

The streets in this neighborhood were quiet, and it was still relatively early, barely nine, but I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that someone was following me. You know that prickle you can get at the nape of your neck—some leftover survival instinct from when we'd just climbed down the from the trees, I guess. A monkey buzz.

I kept looking back the way I'd come—expecting to see Mr.Wolf Man skulking about a block or so behind me—but there was never anybody there. It wasn't until I was on my own block and almost home that I saw the dog. Some kind of big husky, it seemed, from the glance I got before it slipped behind a parked car. Except its tail didn't go up in that trademark curl.

I kept walking toward my door, backward, so that I could look down the street. The dog stuck its head out twice, ducking back when it saw me watching. The second time I bolted for my apartment, charged up the steps and onto the porch. I had my keys out, but I was so rattled, it took me a few moments to get the proper one in the lock. It didn't help that I spent more time staring down the street than at what I was doing. But I finally got the key in, unlocked the door, and was inside, closing and locking the door quickly behind me.

I leaned against the wall to catch my breath, positioned so that my gaze could go down the street. I didn't see the dog. But I did see a man, standing there in the general area of where the dog had been. He was looking down the street in my direction and I ducked back from the window. It was too far away to make out his features, but I could guess who he was.

This was what I'd been afraid of when I'd first seen the dog: that it wasn't a dog. That it was a wolf. That Mr. Wolf Man really
could
become a wolf and now he'd turned into Stalker Freak Man.

I was thinking in capitals like my superhero character Rocket Grrl always did when she was confronting evildoers like Can't Commit Man. Except I wasn't likely to go out and fight the good fight like she always was. I was more the hide-under-the-bed kind of person.

But I was kind of mad now.

I watched until the man turned away, then hurried up the stairs to my apartment. Once I was inside, I made sure the deadbolt was engaged. Ditto the lock on the window that led out onto the fire escape. I peered down at the street from behind the safety of the curtains in my living room, but saw no one out there.

I changed and paced around the apartment for a while before I finally went into the kitchen and punched in Mr. Wolf Man's phone number. I lit into him the minute he answered.

“Maybe you think it's a big joke, following me home like that, but I didn't appreciate it.”

“But I—” he started.

“And maybe you can turn into a wolf or a dog or whatever, or maybe you just have one trained to follow people, but I think it's horrible either way, and I just want you to know that we have an anti-stalking law in this city, and if I ever see you hanging around again, I'm going to phone the police.”

Then I hung up.

I was hoping I'd feel better, but I just felt horrible instead. The thing is, I'd found myself sort of liking him before he got all rude and then did the stalking bit.

I guess I should have called Sue at this point, but it was still too freshly depressing to talk about. Instead I made myself some toast and tea, then went and sat in the living room, peeking through the curtains every couple of minutes to make sure there was no one out there. It was a miserable way to spend an evening that had held the potential of being so much more.

I hung up the phone feeling totally confused. What had she been talking about? But by the time Tyrone got home, I thought I had a clue.

“Did you follow her home?” I asked.

He just looked confused. “Follow who home?”

“My date.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because we got into a fight and you're always stepping in to protect me or set people straight when you think they've treated me badly.”

I could see that look come into his eyes—confirming my feelings, I thought, until he spoke.

“Your date went bad?” he asked.

“It went horribly—but you already know that.”

Tyrone sighed. “I was nowhere near the Café, or wherever you guys went after.”

“We didn't have time to go anywhere after,” I said, and then I told him about how the evening had gone.

“Let's see if I've got this straight,” Tyrone said. “She tells you she likes to dress casually and draws comics for a living, so you tell her you're a skinwalker.”

“We were sharing intimacies.”

“Sounds more like lunacies on your part. What were you think-ing?”

I sighed. “I don't know. I liked her. I liked the fact that she didn't want to start off with any B.S.”

Tyrone shook his head. “Well, it's done now, I guess. With any luck she'll just think you're a little weird and leave it at that.” He paused and fixed with me with a considering look. “Tell me you didn't shift in front of her.”

“No. But from this phone call …”

“Right. The phone call. I forgot. You don't think you put that idea into her head?”

“She sounded a little scared as well as pissed off. But if it wasn't you and it wasn't me, I guess her imagination must have been working overtime.”

Tyrone shrugged. “Maybe. Except… did you touch her at all?”

“Not really. We just shook hands and I grabbed her shoulders when I stumbled and lost my balance.”

“So your scent was on her.”

I nodded. “I suppose.”

I saw where he was going. We don't actually go out marking territory anymore—at least most of us don't. But if another wolf had caught my scent on her it might intrigue him enough to follow her. And if he was one of the old school, he might think it fun to do a little more than that.

“I've got to go to her place and check it out,” I said.

“And you'll find it how?” Tyrone asked.

He was right. I didn't even know her phone number.

“That we can deal with,” Tyrone said.

I'd forgotten what we can do with phones these days. Tyrone had gotten all the bells and whistles for ours and in moments he'd called up the digits of the last incoming call on the liquid crystal display.

“It still doesn't tell us where she lives,” I said. “And I doubt she'd appreciate a call from me right now. If ever.”