Chapter Twenty-Seven – Hunter

 

I threw open the front door of Full Moon Security and strode into the office with speed. Focused on finding Kris, I passed right by the open door of Sam Fitzgerald’s office and barely heard him call out my name.

“Hunter? Hey! Where’s the fire at, man?”

I backtracked a little bit. Frowning a little, I shook my head at him. “What? Fire? No fire.”

He sniffed at the air. “Actually, kinda does smell like a fire.”

I stuck the sleeve of my shirt to my nose, sniffing delicately at it. He was right, I did smell smoky. “Oh. This. I was burning some trash, that’s all.”

He gave me a weird look. “Don’t you live in the fucking city, man?” He shook his head. “You dragons are fucking weird, you know that?”

I shrugged. “Can’t all be shifters, right?”

“No, guess not.”

“Speaking of dragons,” I said, grabbing the frame of his door, “have you seen Kris, by any chance? She make it in this morning?”

“Yeah. Twice, actually. Just came by and grabbed a client, took her back to her office. Some real prim and proper lady, gave me a real stern look as she walked past.”

“Really?”

Elbows on his desk, Sam leaned forward. “Weirdest thing, though?”

Other than the fact that she was seeing clients right now, when she had probably already called Harrington to tell him she was joining up? I didn’t say anything, of course, just went along with him. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“We locked eyes as she was walking by, right?” He leaned back a little for emphasis. “And she winked at me.”

“Kris?”

“No, the older woman.”

“Like she was making a pass at you?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t care one way or another; I’m taken. But, you know, it’s still nice to know you got it.”

“Uh-huh.” I paused, looked around the office for a second. “Kris take her back to her office?”

“Yeah, I think so. Need me to call her real quick?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll just pop back and see her. No trouble.”

Every instinct in my body thrumming, telling me I didn’t have much time left, I ducked out of his office and made my way down the hall. I took the twists and turns, passed right by my workshop, and ended up back at Kris’s.

I took a deep breath, straightened up and pushed my shoulders back, and rapped on the door lightly with my knuckles.

“Yes?” came Kris’s bark.

“Kris? It’s Hunter.”

“Hunter?” she asked, a note of surprise to her voice, followed by a murmur from the other side. With the sound dampening in the walls, it would have been difficult for even one of the shifters to clearly make out what she’d said. A moment later, she opened the door, stuck her head out the door, and looked up at me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I want to go with you,” I said, having decided that boldness and just biting the bullet was preferable to meandering around. “These White Feathers—I want to help.”

She blinked rapidly up at me. If my arrival had been a surprise, this was an absolute shock. “Hunter, I don’t think that’s a good idea, if I’m being honest. I’m getting my briefing right now, and these aren’t people you want to fuck around with.”

“I know that,” I replied, my voice as quiet as I could manage. “I’ve run into them before, a long, long time ago. I know what they’re capable of, and what their goals are.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as I spoke. “You…know these people? The people who just tried to kill me?”

“Us,” I reminded her. “Though, you more specifically. Look, like I said, it was a long time ago. They did something to hurt me, but by the time I’d discovered it, I was so besot with grief and everything else, I didn’t have my chance to ferret them out. And, besides, I’d thought they’d all disappeared. Their little movement had broken up.”

“So you want in for revenge?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not revenge. I just…I just want to do the right thing for once, Kris. Like you are.”

“Ms. Cole?” asked a woman’s prim and proper, and distinctly British, voice from within. I recognized it immediately from recordings Kris had played nearly a year back, around Thanksgiving or so, of a conversation she had had with Tabitha regarding some cases of spontaneous combustion.

At the time, Kris had called her, and I quote: “That Judi-Dench-sounding bitch.”

Clearly, they were on much better footing this time around. And, also clear was to whom Dame Dench’s allegiance stood: Col. Harrington.

“One second,” Kris said back over her shoulder. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to do the right thing, Hunter, but do you really want to get involved in this? You’re free now. I gave you your file and everything.”

“I know you did. Can’t you smell it?”

She didn’t laugh, just shook her head. “Hunter—”

“Kris. Please, just listen to me. I can help you. I have an idea of what they—”

“Ms. Cole, if I may?” said the Judi Dench sound-alike from inside the office, her voice much closer than before. She must have gotten up from her chair while I’d been speaking. “For my part, I say you should let him in. Not only is there a draft developing, which is playing hell with my hair, but also, he does make an excellent point.”

Kris sighed, looking back over her shoulder. “Fine. But I’m just letting you know that I object to this.” She stepped back from the door and held an arm out as if in invitation. “Strenuously.”

I sighed with relief. “Objection noted,” I said, striding into the room. “And, Kris?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You won’t regret this.”

“Famous last words, if I’ve ever heard them,” said the British woman.