Wolf's Soul (19 page)

Fucking bastards never came to his property before and they never come out until the sun goes down. They never wander in this part of the woods. Why would they come here? Callum gritted his teeth.

He felt Marisol"s head lean against the back of his neck. Good god, it was a good thing he made it to her in time.

Gearing to full speed, they took the black asphalt road in a blur. He wouldn"t take her back to the Honey Moon Cabin. Fucking Blood Robbers or Cancers would expect them to return there. Seattle"s Best Den was too far of a drive. There was only one safe place where he could take Marisol quickly.

Turtle Bluff Den.

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Like always, the restaurant was full. Through the glass window, Callum could see people waiting for their table. He drove the bike around the back where Turtle Bluff owner, Goon had saved parking spots for Midnight Howl.

The green dilapidated door with a painted doorknob was unnoticeable. Its color blended with that of the building. Garbage bins filled with all kinds of crap that must have been there for weeks could flip anyone"s stomach. The whole place reeked with sour and spoiled rotten food. And possibly dead animal.

Health and Sanitary inspectors had been here before and seen how awful and unsanitary the place was, but they never shut down the Turtle Bluff. Goon had offered the inspectors a lifetime free soup in exchange of his permit to run the business. Well, who could resist that offer?

Callum parked the motorcycle beside the pile of sagging wet cardboard boxes. The sound of his motorcycle must have scared a family of rodents because they started coming out of old boxes like overflowing black water.

“Eww! Please don"t tell me they are Shape-shifters, too.”

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Callum got off the bike and faced Marisol. She was watching the rodents with the corner of her lips pulled down and her eyes wide open. She looked so charming he had the urge to kiss her. Cupping her face, he forced her to look at him. “They"re just rats, baby.” Marisol met him halfway when he dipped his head for a kiss. It was just a kiss, but powerful enough to make him burn. Their tongues dueled, plunging, seeking, tasting. Somewhere, laughter penetrated his senses reminding him of where they were. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. “Keep kissing me like that and you"d find yourself flat on your back. Naked. Me on top.”

“Promise?”

“Minx.” With one last long drugging kiss, he lifted her off his bike. “I don"t give empty promises. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good. Goon makes great soup.”

“Rat soup?”

“Better.” Holding Marisol"s hand, he led her through the kitchen.

“Hmm, smells wonderful. Oh, I think the cook is making stew.”

“Keep walking and stop craning your neck.”

“I love bread with my stew.”

“Noted.”

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A burly dishwasher with dark long hair plastered on his head from the heat blocked their path, his arms akimbo.

“Hey, Max. How"s the jaw?”

“Still attached, bastard. Next time, Callum, I"ll break your bones and stuff you in the dishwasher.”

Callum responded with a grin that didn"t last. Before he could react, Marisol had the tip of her sword digging in Max"s thick neck. Hot damn, that was what he called speed. The noisy kitchen turned quiet. The staff looked unconcerned about the threat, but Callum knew better. “Baby, put down your sword.”

“Not until he takes back what he said.”

“This is Max. A good friend of mine. He"s a prick, but on our side.”

“I apologize, Mark"s daughter.”

“You know me?”

“I knew your father. He was a good man. A good friend. My condolences to you. ”

“Thank you.”

“Please accept my condolences as well.”

Marisol and Callum both turned around. “Goon, how are you?”

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“Getting old. So this is the most talked about woman that fluff the wolves"

fur. I can finally put a face on your name Marisol. Beautiful name with an equally beautiful face.”

“Thank you.”

As if someone had turned on the play button, the noise in the kitchen came back. Everyone started moving again, doing his or her own business. None said a word. They didn"t have to. The sideways glances and blatant stares said it all. They didn"t like Marisol and he"d bet his guns they knew about him breaking the rules.

“Goon, we"re hungry. Do you think you could send your best soup and bread to my place?”

“No problem. I"ll have fresh bread delivered. Your brothers cleaned my pantry earlier.”

“One thing we don"t have in Seattle"s Best is a great soup and bread.”

“That"s what I heard. Well, good to see you, Callum. Oh, Cal.”

“Yeah?”

“It"s gonna be different down there.”

“I know. My brothers warned me. Thanks.”

“Pleasure meeting you, Marisol.”

“Same here, Goon. I"ve never seen a charming goon in my life.” Marisol sheathed her sword and gave the old man a smile.

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Callum almost laughed when Goon blushed like a teenager.

“I"ve never been called charming before. So thank you.”

“You"re welcome. So you"re responsible for that wonderful smell. I"m not a very good cook. Perhaps someday you could show me your secret.”

“The secret of my Turtle Soup will go to my grave. Now, the bread. That I can show you how to make.”

“Oh, goody! I"m a quick learner. Show me what to do just one time and I"ll remember it.”

“I"ll save a day just for you.”

Marisol giggled. “Thank you.”

“Mari, let"s go.”

“Where are we going? Could we eat here? I saw people eating and I do believe they have an empty table.”

“We"ll eat in the room.” He practically shoved her in a hallway that twisted and turned.

“A dead end. Did we miss the elevator?”

“No.”

Endy, the busboy working for Goon sat on a stool with his back leaning up against the wall flipping the pages he held too close to his face. The kid had been working in the morning and going to school at night.

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“Endy, we need to get in.”

The kid just grunted and kept on reading.

“Were already inside. Get in where, Callum? I don"t see a door.”

Callum ignored Marisol. “Endy,” he smacked the side of the kid"s head none too gently.

“Oww! Christ, Callum. What the fuck man.”

“Watch your mouth, kid. If you want to teach kids, better learn to curve your tongue.”

“What are you doing here? Uhm, does she need to use the ladies room? You passed it already.” Endy let out a big yawn then made a move to continue reading.

“Damn kid. Will you stop for a minute and let us in?”

“Unlike you Callum, I have tests to take. What do you want?”

“
We
need to get in.”

“We? But Callum…,” Endy glanced at Marisol. “You know outsiders are not allowed. Is she…I heard about—”

“My brother"s are expecting us.”

“They are?” Endy and Marisol said simultaneously.

Damn, he"d better to remember to brief Marisol next time. “Endy, have you seen Youven"s sword?”

“No.”

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“Marisol carries it on her back.”

Endy"s eyes couldn"t have gotten any bigger. His jaws dropped. Sleepiness left his eyes. “Really? Is it true it has engravings written in Gaelic on it?”

“Wanna see it?” Marisol offered.

“Later. Open the door, Endy.”

“Callum, I can show the sword to Endy right now.”

“Not here, Marisol. We"re still outside. It"s not safe.”

“Right. Well, later Endy. Promise I"ll show you the sword.”

Callum watched Endy"s face turn bright red when Marisol gave him the same smile that she gave Goon—seductive. Her smile could make anyone think of a sunrise, green grass on the meadow, rainbow and butterflies. Man, did she have to smile like that?

“Thanks. Okay, here we go.” Endy recited a poem in Gaelic language in such a way one would think it was his native tongue. Just like their ancestors, the Gaels.

A deep mechanical sound like an elevator sounded before the cement wall slid to the left revealing a passage Callum had entered many times before.

“Wow. That"s incredible.”

“I know. Who would have thought there"s a door there, huh?” Endy said with pride in his voice.

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“Oh yeah. The wall opening is cool, but I am talking about your proficiency in Gaelic. You"re awesome.”

“Sheez, thanks. Not very many appreciate my hard work here.”

“Callum, isn"t he wonderful? Gaelic is a hard language to learn.”

“Good job, Endy. Let"s go, Marisol.” He tugged Marisol"s hand but the dratted woman dug her heels so she could talk to Endy.

“I like your poem, Endy. Elizabeth Barrett Browning is my all time favorite poet. How do I love thee in ancient Gaelic sounds sweeter than English.”

“Eh?” Endy"s face turned pale. He swallowed visibly and then started breathing hard. The boy looked ready to pass out. “You, you know the sacred language of Nuada where your sword came from?”

“Uh-huh. I can read and speak the language. Studied it before I learned to ride a three wheeler.”

Endy started rubbing his palms on his apron. “I"m fucked. I"m going to lose this job.”

“Why?”

“Babe, to open this door, Endy"s job is to come up with tough passwords that only he would know. This time he came up with a poem.”

“In Gaelic! And you know the language, too, Callum?”

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“Very few of us could read and speak it. It"s old and dying. Endy here took the task of studying it so he could teach the new generation.”

“Do you think
How Do I Love Thee
sounds sweeter in Gaelic than English?”

Marisol asked.

“Yeah. Okay, can we go now?”

“Oh my god! I so love Gaelic. Sorry, Endy. Don"t worry, no one will know.”

“I do.”

“Come up with a different password then.”

“That means memorizing another poem.”

“I"ll help.”

Endy let out a deep breath. “Cool.”

Marisol followed Callum to a narrow passage that led them to an elevator.

Where they were going, she had no idea but one thing for sure. Once inside, it would be tough to get out. She watched as Callum punched codes instead of floor numbers. “Penthouse?”

Callum grinned. “Better.”

When the elevator opened, she found herself staring at a beautiful town with a fountain in the middle. The place reminded her of an old Wild West show 209

with taverns and salons. Man, he wasn"t kidding. “Where are we? A town underground?”

“The Turtle Bluff Den.”

“This is your Den?”

“Yeah. We have dens like this all over the country. Sorry to disappoint you, baby. You must be thinking about a hole in the ground.”

“Silly. This is amazing.”

“This town is the size of downtown Seattle.”

“People, I mean, Shape-shifters live here?”

“Yeah. We run different businesses here to finance our cause. Later, I"ll show you the Christie"s.”

“Christie"s as in the world"s most renowned clay pot maker?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. Who would have thought Christie is a Shape-shifter. I"ve been to her gallery in Seattle and saw her collections. They were remarkable. Do you think I could meet her?”

“I"m sure she"d love to meet you. Come on. You could ride a bike and see this whole place in one day.”

“Neat. I might do that.”

“Not without me.”

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“Of course. You"ll be my tour guide.”

“This is the safest place for you. You can stay here while I go back up to—”

“Whoa. Hang on, buddy. You"re not leaving me here. I don"t care if this is paradise or the president of America hangs out here. I am not staying down here while you go up there to fight Atos, Blood Robbers or the ugly ones that chased us.”

“You will do what I say, Marisol.”

“Or? You"ll kiss me again. You should know by now that your threat is not a threat at all.”

“I"ll take all of your clothes then lock you up in the room naked.”

“Well now, that"s a threat. Okay, I"ll do whatever you ask me to do.”

“Marisol,” he sighed her name.

“I said okay, didn"t I?”

Callum stared at her. “Need anything at the pharmacy?” He pointed at the small building with a brown façade and red roof.

Above the door, painted images of chamomile, clover, thyme and other leaves she didn"t recognize was the only sign that the place was a pharmacy.

“Uhm, do you think we can find Chapstick for my lips in there?”

“No but we can get pigs fat in a jar. Of course, we can get one there.

Anything else?”

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