Moonshifted(68)

“That’s good.” Between the two of us, I hoped we’d get some answers.

* * *

I hopped out of the cab and walked around to meet him. He held the door of the restaurant open for me, and the throng of kids home from college rushed the door. One of them forcibly bumped into Lucas and didn’t apologize. I watched him carefully for any signs of anger, but he merely seemed resigned.

“There are days when I wonder about my commitment to staying a member of society,” he said as we entered together.

“Helen told me about that. Something about public roads and paying taxes?”

“Deepest Snow’s philosophy. One of the reasons for friction between them and Viktor’s pack. Winter had a point there. If you cut yourself off, you forget why you shouldn’t kill everyone when you get the chance.”

He let me lead into the restaurant, which I knew was seat-yourself. I angled us toward the back, booths far away from the college kids on furlough.

“You know, you’re not any older than they are,” I said, sliding to the inside of a booth.

“Only deep inside my heart.”

At the front of the restaurant, the college kids started to make a ruckus. They squirmed around, changed seats, and threw things. I had no doubt they were already drunk and suspected they’d go on to drink more.

From the darkness of our booth, Lucas watched them with glittering eyes. I wondered if he was trapped inside his past, angry about not ever having the chance to openly misbehave—and then I realized it was different. Feral. Something I’d only seen illicitly when he was naked, at the fights. Like how Minnie was when she saw a flickering laser cat toy—ready to pounce.

He came back to attention at the table. “You were saying?”

“I wasn’t.” Suddenly Viktor didn’t seem so crazy after all.

The waitress came by. We both ordered burgers, and when she left, he looked to me. “How did you know to ask for sanctuary?”

“The vampire I’m friends with suggested it.”

“He couldn’t guard you himself?”

“She,” I corrected, “is a little indisposed. Plus, she’d be asleep during the day.”

“Ah. Her being a woman … makes more sense. I couldn’t see a male vampire swallowing his pride. You say she’s your friend?” His eyebrows rose at the term as the waitress came by with our drinks.

“We’ve been through a lot, she and I.” I could tell him that we were friends, but I knew he wouldn’t believe it. “Why do vampires and weres hate each other?”

“We used to be their favorite food. We’d last a lot longer than normal humans would, with less outlay of funds. It was easier for them to hide their habits using us, back in darker times, before Winter’s roads and taxes. Another way that civilization has benefited the were.” He tilted his beer toward me in a small toast. “So why are you her friend, and not a daytimer, or donor—or living in a small tight box?”

Without answering, I shrugged. He gave another look around. “You picked the right booth. This one has its back to the wall. Not another booth. And you can see both the kitchen and main entrances from here. Windows too. Good call. How did you know to pick this one?”

I frowned, unsure where he was going with his demonstration. “Because.” Because I’d been in patients’ rooms before where I needed a clear shot through to the door—even before working on Y4.

“I know why, even if you don’t.”

“Illuminate me, then.”

“Because to me, and maybe to others, although hopefully you’ll never know—you’re prey. You’ve always felt it a bit. A little paranoid, a little overworried. Perhaps jealous of people with more freedom and less care. But that feeling inside you that you’ve carried your whole life—it’s actually quite profound.” Lucas slowly sank back into the booth and looked at me with his red-brown eyes. I wondered if it was the nearness of the full moon that made him seem relaxed, languorous. As a predator, he knew his time was near. “That sense of the world, and your place in it, that’s what’s currently keeping you afloat.” He rested his forearms on the table, and his attention on me felt eerie. The waitress saved me, bringing out our plates of food.

“What’s it like, being a werewolf?” I asked, trying to make easy conversation.

Lucas leaned back. “Depends a lot on what kind of were you are. Major weres like my family that can switch anytime are rare. Minor ones, with diluted blood, that only get pulled by the moon are more common. Bitten ones look like the weres from the movies, half man, half wolf, that sort of thing. Each has its pros and cons. We’re all mortal without the moon in the sky—after that, it depends on how much were is in your blood.”