NINE
Maxwell’s presence was getting more and more prolonged. Elizabeth would have chalked it up to him just not having any other options, since if he had been a wolf for so many years, then it would make sense if he didn’t have a stable housing situation, and thus the faster he handled his work with Ambrose, the sooner he could be on his way to finding somewhere to actually settle down.
Elizabeth would have chalked it up to that, but he seemed to have remarkably little interest in Ambrose, and he acted as if Mara and Yusuke were invisible whenever they were around. His attention instead seemed to be primarily focused on Elizabeth, though she still couldn’t figure out why. She had barely spoken to him unprompted, and the conversations they had engaged in had been brief and generally unpleasant.
She tried to avoid him, though Ambrose’s house was only so big, and wolves had impressive noses. Maxwell would always happen upon her before long. She never needed to put up with him for particularly long, since Ambrose was always willing to step in and make it very apparent that Maxwell’s company wasn’t wanted there—and failing that, Yusuke and Mara had both stepped in on different occasions—but it never stopped it from happening over and over again.
Elizabeth didn’t want to complain. She knew that none of the others were happy with the situation either, and she knew that Ambrose would kick him to the curb in an instant if Elizabeth started to push the subject. But she wasn’t naive. She knew that wasn’t guaranteed to get Maxwell to actually go away, and it could very well escalate the situation into violence. Of all the possible outcomes, Elizabeth was pretty sure that Ambrose, Yusuke, or Mara getting hurt was the absolute last thing she wanted.
…Well, alright, it was less that she didn’t want to complain, and more that she didn’t want to make any demands before she knew they were warranted. Complaining, though, was something she was well within her rights to do, and she exercised that right frequently and with anyone willing to humor her.
*
Maxwell was watching her. He was just a few yards away, leaning against the railing of the porch as Elizabeth sat in the yard and stretched. It was always a good idea to work out a little bit before and after work, just to make sure she didn’t pull anything while she was working with the animals or moving any of the countless heavy objects she had to deal with throughout a workday (or occasionally moving some of the animals, when it came down to that). It was usually a fairly peaceful part of her day, but it was hard to find any peace in it with his gaze boring into her like a pair of ice picks.
It was nothing out of the ordinary. It had become quite normal, actually. But the fact that it had become normal was the most infuriating part of it. True, it wasn’t her house, but she was a very welcome guest within it, and so she figured it was well within her rights to feel comfortable and safe in a house that she had been openly and enthusiastically invited into.
(And that wasn’t even getting into the fact that his pack had led to her not even being welcome or safe within her own home. That detail certainly wasn’t helping anything.)
She didn’t have that comfort, though, because it seemed like every time she turned around, Maxwell was right there, watching her. He usually didn’t even do anything, which made it even worse. If he was multitasking, Elizabeth could at least pretend that he wasn’t there solely so he could watch her, but she didn’t even get that hollow comfort.
She knew he was there to watch her, and for no other reason. She sort of wished she could throw something at him, but she was pretty sure that it wouldn’t go over well. If nothing else, she didn’t see any rocks anywhere around, so she would need to throw her shoe or something like that, and he might decide that he needed to pick it up and bring it back to her. Frankly, she wasn’t particularly keen on offering him any sort of reason to get closer to her.
(Not that he actually needed a reason. He invaded her personal space all the time, though usually with just enough plausible deniability to make it so complaining about it seemed rude or uncalled for. He had at least learned that lesson after the incident at the kitchen table.)
She battered down the urge to flip him off instead, quashing the immature impulse as best as she could. It wasn’t like it would do her any good, and she figured giving him any sort of attention would just encourage him.
(Granted, there didn’t actually seem to be a way to discourage him either. If she ignored him, he carried on. If she told him to go away, he would retreat a few yards at the best of times or think of an excuse to continue lingering at the worst. If she got combative, he seemed to find it oddly charming, which Elizabeth found completely baffling.)
It felt like no matter what option she contemplated, it wasn’t actually going to work out in her favor, and so the only option left to her was to just wait it out, and possibly throw a party afterwards when she was finally rid of him and the incessant pseudo-stalking.
(Was it even pseudo-stalking? He seemed intent enough on her that she was willing to concede that it had graduated to actual, full-on stalking. She didn’t think anyone was actually going to argue with that decision.)
And she could complain. That option was still open to her, to complain to whoever would listen, for however long they would listen.
Thankfully, that was a deeper pool of people to pick from than she would have expected in the past.
*
“Have you ever gotten that feeling that someone is watching you?” Elizabeth wondered, sprawled on her back on the couch as Mara sat on the armchair and flipped through channels on the television.
Mara slid her a wry glance and observed, “I’m pretty sure that’s not a hypothetical thing for you.” There was amusement in her tone, but not on her face. She knew very well what Elizabeth was getting at. Everyone knew at that point.
Before she could quite contain the instinct, Elizabeth turned to look around, just to make sure that Maxwell wasn’t suddenly in the room with them.
“I’ll take that as a confirmation,” Mara added. “He’s not even here,” she pointed out, sounding mildly reassuring as she said it. “You’re fine for the time being.”
“For the time being,” Elizabeth parroted back at her sullenly. Because it was always a very temporary sort of safety, and she always knew he would be back again. “And then eventually he’ll show up, and then he’ll go right back to trailing after me like a toddler clinging to his mom’s skirt and staring at me like I suddenly whipped my shirt off.” She slid down in her seat. “I get that it’s more convenient if he’s on hand while Ambrose fabricates info for him, but why can’t he stay with Ambrose when he’s here? I mean, I find it really hard to believe that I’ve led him on, so I doubt it’s that. I’m not exactly subtle about the fact that I can’t fucking stand him.”
“Oh, please, tell me how you really feel,” Mara sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and prop her chin up in her hands. “You’re just beating around the bush so much, you know? I can’t tell how you feel at all.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and tossed a throw pillow in Mara’s direction, and she felt a tingle of satisfaction when it hit her right in the face, even if she was pretty sure Mara had failed to dodge it on purpose.
Mara straightened up just long enough to set the pillow across her lap before she returned to her previous pose. Her tone turned slightly more serious as she observed, “It’s definitely weird. I mean, I would ask if maybe you’d met him before but forgot and that’s where his fixation comes from, but with how long he’s been living as a wolf, you would’ve been a kid still, and I doubt you would have attracted his attention then.”
“Besides, if I attracted his attention as a kid, I really doubt I would hold his attention now,” Elizabeth returned blandly.
Mara wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Ew.” She straightened up so she could pick the pillow up and throw it back at Elizabeth, hitting her in the chest with it. “You just had to go there, didn’t you? Why?”
“Gallows humor keeps me sane,” Elizabeth returned pleasantly, hugging the pillow to her chest. “So does making people uncomfortable. I feed off your discomfort.”
Mara flipped her off, and all she got in reply was a snort of laughter.
“Well, at least he’s not that brand of creepy,” Mara observed, twirling a finger in a circle in the air in an emphatically sarcastic ‘yippee’ gesture. “Not that it makes him any less of a creep, but I guess it’s a silver lining.” If she sounded anymore deadpan, her voice probably would have been flat enough to use it to level shelves.
Elizabeth pantomimed holding up an invisible glass of champagne. “I’ll toast to that.” She extended her arm just as Mara did, clinking the imaginary glasses together.
*
Occasionally, it was good to just sit outside and clear her head for a while. To just enjoy the fresh air and let her head clear, until it felt like her skull was empty. Her thoughts were generally so busy with the situation that it sometimes felt like her head was buzzing, so she liked the occasional moment to just let her thoughts go blank until the buzzing stopped and she could actually hear herself think again.
The porch was a decent enough place for it. It wrapped around most of the house, so she could usually find a place that at least felt private, and there was surprisingly comfortable furniture all over it, considering she was accustomed to outdoor furniture feeling like sitting on a wooden pallet.
Elizabeth thought she was alone on the porch, sitting on a love seat and letting her thoughts wander, at least until Yusuke opened the door, stepped outside, and sidled over to her far too casually for it to be a normal situation.
He didn’t say anything. He simply sat down in a chair and stared off into the woods with an intensity that Elizabeth hadn’t really come to expect from him. Cocking her head to one side, she followed his gaze, and every muscle in her body tensed up as she realized what he was staring at.
There was an enormous and very familiar wolf standing in the trees, watching the porch intently. Just close enough to spot, but still far enough away to pretend he didn’t mean to be there.
Yusuke sat up straighter and folded his arms over his chest, fingers drumming against his upper arms. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared, as his expression turned to a slightly alarming mixture of ‘annoyed’ and ‘unimpressed.’ Considering Elizabeth was accustomed to Yusuke being sort of goofy, for lack of a better word, to see him looking vaguely homicidal was a level of cognitive dissonance that she wasn’t entirely sure she was equipped to deal with.
For a moment, Maxwell stayed right where he was, still watching the porch, until Yusuke unfolded his arms and let his hands fall to the armrests, his arms tensing in preparation to get to his feet.
Just the hint of actual consequences seemed to be enough, at least for that moment, as Maxwell backed up a few paces before he turned and loped away. Yusuke remained tense for a moment before he relaxed back into his seat.
He didn’t seem to have any plans to leave, and Elizabeth wasn’t going to ask him to after that.
*
Elizabeth liked to sit and listen whenever Maxwell and Ambrose were in the basement. For one thing, it was nice to keep track of how far along things were, so she could have some idea of how much longer she would need to put up with Maxwell’s presence and his behavior. For another thing, it was surprisingly interesting to listen to Ambrose put together a fake life for someone, interspersed with discussion of how to go about getting the relevant paperwork acquired and out of the way.
She never got particularly close, choosing instead to stay on the stairs that led down to the basement, sitting on the second-to-last step, her shoulder leaning against the wall and her feet on the floor. She couldn’t even properly see them, but she could hear them just fine, and whenever they were done and Ambrose insisted on Maxwell leaving, it was simple enough for her to get to her feet and move out of the way to let him pass without brushing against him.
“I don’t like him,” she observed calmly once he was at the top of the stairs, as if Ambrose wasn’t fully aware of that already. She didn’t doubt that Maxwell could still hear her, but she wasn’t especially concerned with preserving his feelings, and especially his feelings where they concerned her.
Ambrose at least waited until he heard the front door open and then close again, before he kissed her forehead and assured her, “No one does. We’re nearly done, though, so he’ll be on his way soon enough.”
She could ask Ambrose to toss Maxwell out on his ass. She could ask him to kick the wolf to the curb. She knew he would go along with it, and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t even put up a token complaint. He would probably consider it a relief. But she was pretty sure it wouldn’t go well if she took away Maxwell’s only valid reason for being there, and she didn’t want to know how he might react if he felt like he was being backed into a figurative corner.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes narrowing skeptically, though the suspicion was only partially genuine. (Granted, there was still some genuine skepticism behind it.) “Are you sure he won’t just think up a reason that lets him hang around even longer so he can keep trying to stare at me until he burns a hole through my shirt?”
“If he does that, then it will mean we won’t have business together anymore,” Ambrose pointed out, “and then he’ll be trespassing, and I’ll call the cops on him. Or I’ll let Mara and Yusuke eat him. I don’t think they would object.”
“What, you wouldn’t help?” Elizabeth wondered dryly.
“Of course not,” he scoffed, bringing a hand to his chest. “I’m more civilized than that.”
When Elizabeth informed him, “I’m telling them you said that,” he didn’t seem particularly concerned.
“They already know I call them uncivilized,” he returned breezily. “They agree most of the time, considering how often they decide to go running around naked without a viable change of clothes.”
“You’ve gone running around naked too,” she reminded him wryly, arching one eyebrow at him.
“But with a viable change of clothes in mind,” he insisted, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s completely different. Besides, all I said was that I was more civilized than them, not that I was entirely civilized.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue the point. She supposed that technically he was right, after all.