Chapter Nine
Two nights later, the three of them were in bed when a loud, shrill beeping from Piper's cell phone interrupted them. Her heart was instantly in her throat and she scrambled for her clothes.
"It's the gallery!" she shouted, dressing as fast as she could.
Patrick and Baxter jumped out of bed as well. They were quicker than Piper and she was still pulling on her shoes when Patrick carried her out to the car. Her fingers drummed against the window, anxious. It was all she could do to not scream at Baxter to go faster.
"At least we know the security system works," Patrick said, but it did little to lighten the mood.
The police were already there when the trip arrived. Lights flashed blue and red and Piper's eyes instantly found the gasoline can sitting beside one of the cruisers. She gasped. As her heart beat faster, she reminded herself that the building was still standing and no obvious damage was apparent.
The Werewolves flanked her as she sought out the officer in charge, a tall athletic man with broad shoulders and a permanent scowl etched between his eyes. It was the same officer that had arrested Patrick and Baxter during the incident at the Gala and Piper had to repress a scowl of her own.
The officer's frown deepened when he saw the three of them, but nodded politely in greeting. "It looks like you three are very unpopular. We caught somebody trying to burn down the building. You're lucky you've got such a good security system in place, otherwise we might not have gotten here in time."
"Was there any property damage?" Patrick asked, all business.
"You've got some gasoline splashed around the entrance you'll want to clean up, but that's all."
Piper sighed in relief. Finally, they were going to be at the bottom of this! And finally, Wragge is going to get what's coming to him! "So who was it?"
"A woman by the name of Kristal Clarkson. You know her?"
Piper gaped. "A woman?"
"You heard me. Do you know her?"
"Never heard of her."
Piper's head spun. It was a woman. Kristal Clarkson. Not Thor Wragge. How was that possible? She had been so certain that it was him! Maybe he paid off this woman to do all that vandalism so that it wouldn't be traced back at him. That was it–Wragge had put her up to it and she was going to roll on him and he'd finally get his.
"Kristal Clarkson," Patrick repeated, frowning. "I know her."
Piper spun to face him. "You do?"
"She's a fan. A bit more than a fan, actually, she's obsessed. Remember the woman who interrupted our first date?"
Piper thought a moment then nodded. It was so long ago she'd erased the woman from her mind.
"That's her. She tried to get into the locker room at my last game and I've seen her hanging around my house. I'm sorry, I never made the connection between her and the vandalism at the gallery."
The police officer rose a brow. "There have been other incidents of vandalism?"
"At the gallery I had in Uphoria," Piper sighed. "A broken window, then somebody broke in and smashed everything. Is she a witch? They used magic to—"
"She's a witch. A pretty feisty one, too."
"The vandalism did happen right after we started approaching a trois amour," Baxter put in. "It could be because this Kristal was crazy obsessed and jealous."
"We'll have the truth out of her soon enough," the officer said. "In the meantime, I think your building is fine."
"She might not be working alone," Piper put in quickly, thinking of Wragge. There was still a chance, after all. A witch had to have hope.
"We'll have a car patrol the area for the rest of the night, but if she had a partner, they're probably long gone by now."
The conversation was obviously finished and Piper slumped back to the car with the Werewolves. Patrick handed Baxter the keys and slid into the backseat with Piper, pulling her onto his lap as they headed home.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see the signs." Patrick nuzzled her neck. He was catching onto what she liked quickly. "If I had, we could have prevented that little bitch from destroying your first gallery."
"Do you get stalker fans often?"
"Well… none so far I would classify as stalkers, but they can get a little over zealous at times," Patrick admitted. "This Kristal is the first real crazy one that I've had. But it's my job to protect you and I—"
"I just thought it was going to be Wragge." Piper crossed her arms and scowled. "I really wanted it to be him. I'd really like to see him crawling on his knees to beg me not to put him in jail."
"You have a real feud with him, don't you?" Patrick chuckled, though he stopped when Piper glared at him. "Look, I'll admit that guy is an asshole to you, but what I don't get is what started all this. Why does he have a vendetta against you?"
"Hell if I know." Piper slumped, knowing that wasn't quite true. "I may have started it."
Baxter snorted.
Piper glared at him. "Care to share anything, Baxter?"
"No, I think you're doing a good job."
Patrick raised his brow.
"Wragge churns out copies of the same piece of art magically. Like, those dumb wall-hangings that show the little kids playing hockey on a pond? He's been selling those for years, the same damn picture every year. Everything in his store is cheap and magically reproduced. He wanted to do that to my art. Can you imagine the nerve of him?"
Patrick's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, but Piper was too upset to notice, her hands were clenched and she glowered out the window as streetlights zipped by.
"And when I told him in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't—"
"She called him a waste of breath and that he was going to hell for what he was doing."
"The devaluation of art is serious. Well, he got pissy and said that the only reason I felt that way was because I wasn't a good enough artist or witch to set up my own press like the one he had. Well, you can say a lot of things about me, but you insult my art and my magic and you've got a feud on your hands. And I don't mean insults like “my kid could paint that” - that's just ignorance and—"
She cut off as Patrick roared with laughter. With a huff, she tried to move off his lap but he just held her tighter. Elbowing him in the stomach only made him laugh even more.
"Ah, Piper. Piper, Piper, Piper. You're a little minx, you know that, right?"
Piper's shoulders hunched forward and she scowled.
"I was going to wait until it was officially official," he continued, "but I can see you need something to cheer you up. I've decided that I need to get more into the art business myself. Now I know you hate cheap reproductions, but I'm opening up an Artco franchise store in Uphoria. Only with cheaper prices and more variety then what Wragge has in his shop."
Piper gaped at him. "But… but that's going to cost you a small fortune! And… how is it even going to work?"
Patrick shrugged. "It'll hurt Wragge's business, which is its purpose. Just being there ought to have some effect on his bottom line. Like when a Tim Hortons opens up right next to a donut shop, it's going to hurt the donut shop."
It was Baxter's turn to laugh. "I'm glad we're out of Uphoria for that. I bet Wragge has smoke coming from his ears over this."
Patrick smiled in a self-satisfied way and Piper snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."
Baxter hummed, and Patrick's eyes flicked over to him. "While we're on things that were going to wait, I think Baxter has something for you, too."
They were at the apartment building by this time and Patrick carried her inside. It was something she never thought she'd be able to experience, given her size, but Piper found she really liked being carried from one place to another. It made her feel special.
"You sure?" Baxter asked Patrick when they got to the apartment. "It can wait until morning–make you the hero of tonight."
"I'll have plenty of chances to be the hero. Besides, I think our little female here won't be satisfied until she knows what we're talking about," replied Patrick, his hands resting on her shoulders.
Baxter glanced at Piper's impatient expression and grinned. Patrick took Piper to the kitchen while Baxter disappeared in the hallway closet. Moments later he reappeared with a painting in his hands. Piper gasped. It was an apple tree, painted from the view of a window high about it. Tears filled her eyes as she reached for the painting.
"My mother's painting. How did you—"
"I found it at a secondhand store. Couldn't believe my eyes." Baxter kissed the top of her head. "There's no real telling how it got there, but I suspect Kristal Clark had something to do with it. More so than Thor Wragge."
Piper didn't care. She quickly went to the den and took down the abstract piece she had hung over the couch, replacing it with her mother's picture. Stepping back to admire it, she leaned against Baxter as he put an arm around her waist.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"It was my pleasure."
Piper looked up at him with a glint in her eye. "Oh, you can count on it."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom, Patrick trailing after with a grin stretching from ear to ear.