The council president looked at Tori again. "He's in one of the holding cells downstairs, which is where he'll stay for the next thirty days." His tone held warning, like he thought she'd try to break the guy out or something.
She might be tempted, but she wasn't stupid. She didn't want to ruin her life, or possibly put it in jeopardy because Barry was going to be shackled in silver for a crime he'd actually committed. As a liaison, part of her job in addition to investigating crimes was to uphold the law. She might not agree with it, but until someone changed it, she was duty bound.
Sometimes this job really sucked.
Tori gave a small bow and started to turn.
"Just a moment," Tobias said. "There's one more thing I'd like to bring up while Tori's here."
She frowned and turned back to face the council.
"It strikes me that having our liaisons make these face-to-face reports is a little … pretentious. Their findings can easily be sent through e-mail over a secure server."
Why the hell did he have to involve her in this? She didn't want to fight this particular battle.
"Pretentious?" Deoul's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "This is a time-honored tradition, Tobias. There is order in what we do."
"Yes, yes." Caladh waved one hand. "In this I must also agree." His glance toward Tobias held some humor. "This appears to be an off day for you."
"Apparently." Tobias crossed his legs and rested one elbow on the arm of his chair. "I just feel like it's more a matter of ego to make them come here in person and adhere to the old-fashioned greeting."
Deoul puffed up, his eyes glittering. "Ego! This is not about ego. It's about respect." He leaned toward Tobias. "Do you not believe the council is worthy of respect?"
Tori watched the interaction with a horrified interest that was reminiscent of watching a train wreck. She wanted to look away but couldn't. Apprehension crept up on her, because she knew that soon enough one of them would tur/p>em wouln to her for her opinion.
"Of course," Tobias responded to the most egotistical and pretentious pret among them. "But wasting our liaisons' time by making them come to the office is hardly respectful of them."
Then came the moment Tori had been dreading. Caladh looked at her and said, "You're a liaison. What do you think of Tobias's proposal? Do you believe we disrespect you?"
Hell, yeah. Tori searched her mind for a tactful way to agree. "There could be more efficient uses of our time," she finally murmured.
"I see." Deoul began drumming his fingers on the table. "Should we discontinue these face-to-face meetings then? These in-person reports where we can gather so much more information through body language and attitude that doesn't come across in an e-mail?"
You mean so you can try to figure out if your liaisons are trying to hide something from you. Sneaky, slippery elf. "I merely agreed with Tobias that e-mails would be more efficient as far as time goes." She made an effort to keep a melodious inflection in her voice. It had been known to calm the savage beast. She wasn't sure it would do the trick on three of them. "Though I will say that the greeting I could do without."
Deoul's eyebrows rose, as did Caladh's.
"It's just … " She huffed a sigh of frustration. Damn Tobias for putting her in the middle of this. "We're not in the other dimension anymore. Many of us have been on Earth for centuries. Some of us for millennia." She looked at Deoul and Caladh. "Why are we holding onto a language from a place that cast us out?"
"Hear, hear," Tobias said quietly.
Tori tried to tamp down her irritation. He really was trying to make her job easier. She should cut him some slack. She just wasn't sure she would.
"Hmph." Deoul folded his arms across his chest and stared at Tori. Finally he said, "We'll take this under advisement. You may go."
She gave a slight incline of her head, shot Tobias a dirty look, and then turned and left the chamber. She knew Barry was on pins and needles, waiting for the verdict, so she headed down to the basement first.
Stopping at the check-in desk, she removed her weapon and signed it over to the guard on duty, who stowed it in a locker and handed her the key. She passed through a metal detector and went on to where Barry was.
The cell was really a large metal cage, maybe six by eight, with a bench against the back and three rings bolted into the cement floor. Barry was on the bench, one arm between his legs, a silver handcuff around his wrist. The other handcuff at the end of the foot-long chain was attached to one of the floor rings. He looked up as she stopped in front of him. "Well?" he asked.
"Thirty days of restraint in silver." There was no easy way to break it to him, and he was way past needing things sugarcoated.
He paled. "Even through the full moon?"
Tori nodded. "I tried for leniency, Barry. I really did."
"I know you did." He stared down at the floor. "I've never been unable to shift into the wolf at the full moon." He looked up at her again. "The urge is inescapable, Tori. I'll go crazy."
"No, you won't." Right then she made the decision to ride this one through with him. Werewolves were social animals. To be denied the opportunity to shift and run with the pack would be untenable. She couldn't let him go through it alone. "I'll be right here with you. We'll keep each other sane."
His eyes widened. "You'd do that?"
"Yes, I would." Tori knew Barry was a good guy. He was one of the prets who'd decided to look at his exile on Earth as a he Earth second chance-a way to atone for the lawlessness he'd practiced in the other dimension. He volunteered at a homeless shelter and worked as a nurse at one of the local hospitals. "Consider it a date."
His lopsided grin held self-depreciation. "Usually I can show a girl a better time than being chained up in a cell." He glanced at the handcuffs, waving his hand back and forth to give them a rattle. "Though something like this I could put to good use."
"I'll take your word on that."
His lips quirked again. Then he sighed. "Really, Tori, I appreciate the offer. But I can't let you do it. I got myself into this mess, and I'm the only one who should be punished."
She studied him and saw fear lurking deep in his eyes, though he did a good job at trying to hide it. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." His gaze met hers. "You're a stand-up person, Tori. Thanks."
"No problem." She rested one hand against the wall of the cell. "You keep your chin up, okay?"
He gave a nod. "I will."
She lifted her hand in good-bye and headed back to the front where she retrieved her sidearm from the locker, dropped the key off with the guard, and went back upstairs.
Ash was still in the break room. When she pushed open the door he looked up from a scandal rag he was perusing. "Did you know that you can tell a pret from a human by the hair between our toes?"
Tori pursed her lips. "Really?" Last time she'd looked, she didn't have hair between her toes.
"According to this article." He held up the paper. "It amazes me the crap people will believe just because it's in print. Idiots," he muttered, as he let the paper drop to the sofa beside him. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
"The attacks going on in your quadrant."
"Not you, too." He scowled and shot to his feet. Dark blond hair lifted and then settled against his head. His eyes filled with the amber of the wolf. "I don't have to justify myself to you."
"Whoa there, Bartholomew." She lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not judging you here. I just want some information."
"Oh." He cleared his throat. "That's different, then." He plopped back down on the sofa and stretched long legs out in front of him. Slowly the wolf surrendered, the light going out of his eyes. "Don't call me Bartholomew."
She grinned. His full name was Bartholomew Maxwell Asher, but he preferred to go by the nickname Ash. She only called him Bartholomew when he was being a butthead.
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
Tori sat beside him, one leg bent so she could face him. Let's just get this one out of the way. "Do you think Barry's responsible?"
"Hell, no. Why? Do you?" His look was disbelieving.
She shook her head. "No, but until I can check out his alibis on the days of the attacks, I really just have my gut to go on."
Ash stretched one arm out along the back of the sofa. "Your do-gooder wouldn't stray far enough away from his little lost sheep to run around biting people in the north quadrant."
"I agree." Both with the statement that Barry was a do-gooder and that he wouldn't leave his homeless guys for very long. "What's your gut telling you?"
Ash heaved a sigh and raked his fingers through his hair, frustration written in every long, lean line of his body. "I think it's a clever SOB we're after, and he's not going to stop until we catch him. That's what my gut tells me." He stared at her. "If you're asking me if I have a list of suspects … No, I don't. And it's frustrating aOh.rustrats hell."
"I hear the suspect uses bleach to break down his DNA."
He nodded. "And drops about fifty gallons of ammonia at the scene to override his scent." He gave a low growl. "Okay, I'm exaggerating. But the end result is I couldn't smell a thing for about twelve hours after I left one of those scenes." His scowl proclaimed his aggravation with that state of affairs. "Some damned werewolf I am when I can't smell a damned thing."