Twelve
I woke at dusk, thanks to Bonnie’s snoring, and hit the kitchen to whip us up breakfast. We kept staples in all the pantries, so I was able to treat myself to a double café mocha made with a couple pieces of bribery chocolate, along with eggs, bacon, and toast. I made her a plate of the same and left it on the floor for her while I took a quick shower then dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a white tee. We kept a ton of them, in all sizes, in the closet for guests who left their homes with only the clothes on their backs.
Most people respected the system and only used or took what they needed, which was fine, but one time a full set showed up on eBay with the POA’s forged signature…
Sadly, we didn’t provide hair goop, so I had to leave my curls to their own devices.
“Ready?” I called to Bonnie as I exited the bunkroom with our dirties balled up for the laundry service. “Midas is expecting us at the Faraday.” I dumped the sheets down the chute then prayed she wasn’t not answering because she’d had an accident she didn’t want me to find. “Bonnie?”
A faint squeak perked my ears, and I jumped as a mouse ran over my foot.
A white mouse.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
As I watched, she scurried from corner to corner, searching for a way out. I could have told her there was none.
Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Midas. He must have said something last night that spooked her. Too bad for her, fear and guilt provoked similar fight-or-flight responses. The former was regrettable. No one wanted to further traumatize a victim. The latter was inescapable. I had to do my job, even when it meant adorable creatures and/or potential friends took their turn in the hot seat.
“This is for your own good.” I caught her in my cupped hands and dumped her into a tall glass before slapping a coaster over the top. “You can’t run away from this. Lives are at stake.”
Too many of them had already been lost.
I had a theory, based on nothing much, that she couldn’t change glamour from mouse to dog again unless she had room for the dog to fit. She would shatter the glass if she tried, which she could shrug off, but I got the feeling there was more to it. That her projected mass required appropriate space to manifest, not just the will to change.
Basically, I had a mouse in a cup. A corgi wouldn’t fit in a cup. Therefore, she was stuck as a mouse until I let her out, giving her room to glamour herself into a larger form.
Thanks to her escape attempt, I didn’t feel too bad about holding her hostage. I would, however, need a ride if I wanted to keep her from giving me the slip before I was ready. I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the Swyft icon, but I dialed Ford in the end.
“Hey.”
“Hey back,” I said briskly. “Can you give me a lift to my place?”
“Sure thing.” The tick-tick-tick of his blinker told me he was already in his truck. “Where are you?”
“Head to Dickerson’s Seafood. I’ll meet you out front.”
Onto my tricks, he pressed his luck. “Sure you don’t want me to take the direct route?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darlin’.” I hung up with his laughter in my ear. “You heard the man.” Mouse-sized or not, gwyllgi senses were superb. “Let’s go.”
Balancing my hostage, I backed out the exit door then locked up behind us. I got a few weird looks from folks on the street. Okay, I got a lot of weird looks, carrying a mouse around in a glass in the city. Most people trapped them or tossed them, but here I was, taking mine for a walk.
The corgi glamour had definitely been less conspicuous, even if it still got us noticed because who didn’t love corgis? People would remember exactly that—they saw a super-cute doggo. They wouldn’t remember me. I was just the person at the other end of the leash. With a mouse? I was transformed into That Crazy Lady with a Mouse in a Cup. The mouse was overlooked, except for the initial double take to see if they really saw what they thought the first time, but I got noticed in a way that told me people were measuring me for a straitjacket.
Mr. Dickerson himself came out carrying a broom when he spotted me loitering in his parking lot.
“Girl, what you doing?” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “That a mouse in a cup?”
“I caught it in my apartment.”
“Didn’t have no heart to kill it?” He clucked his tongue. “Dump it here, right here. I’ll do it for you.”
Thankfully, I was saved by Ford pulling in the spot beside me.
“That’s my boyfriend,” I lied to the nice old man. “I called him to kill it for me.”
“That’s fine.” He lowered his broom. “Next time, maybe have him come to your place? Don’t look good for me to have a mouse near my store. People get ideas about raisins in their food.”
“I apologize.” I held up the mouse. “It scared me is all. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You have a good night now.” He pointed the broom at me. “Remember, don’t run no more after dark.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Dickerson let himself back in his store, and I passed the hostage to Ford through the window he had lowered to better hear me lying like a rug.
“Do I want to know?” He took a sniff, and his eyes widened. “Snowball?”
“Yes, indeed.” I rounded the truck and hauled myself onto the seat. “She’s in time-out.”
“I guess so.” He handed her back. “I’m your boyfriend, huh?”
“Don’t get a big head.” I settled in for the short ride. “Mr. Dickerson is human. He caught me on patrol one night and offered me a ride home. I told him I run this neighborhood for exercise, and he almost had a heart attack. I make a point to swing by once a week so he knows I’m still alive.”
“You figured it would put his mind at ease if you had a big, strong, handsome man in your life.”
“As old-fashioned as he is, only one part of that sentence matters.”
“Ouch.”
“It’s just a flesh wound.” I patted his arm. “Your ego will survive. You apparently go around telling people you’re big, strong, and handsome. Pretty sure that means you’ve got plenty to spare.”
“I try, and I try.” He nosed the truck up to the curb in front of the Faraday. “You shoot me down at every opportunity.”
“I’m not actually your girlfriend, Ford. I don’t have to stroke your ego.”
The mottled red blossoming in his cheeks inspired pity in me, and I didn’t tack on or anything else.
But I was thinking it.
“The cleaners finished up three hours after you left. There’s a log of all the personal items they took for testing. If you’re missing anything that’s not listed, let the Faraday know, and they will arrange for replacements.”
“I have renter’s insurance.”
“The Faraday has only been breached once since our pack took over security,” he told me. “It happened almost two years ago. To Linus.” He threw the truck in park and got out with me. “It sets a bad precedent, makes it look like we can’t protect high-profile clients. Our alpha will not be pleased about this.”