The first time I’d ever seen Campbell’s cabin it had been wintertime, surrounded by snow, and that was the way I always saw it in my mind’s eye. Snug and warm, smoke coming from the vent connected to the old iron wood-burning fireplace, windows frosted up like an old-time Christmas card. We’d had our problems, but some very fond memories lived there.
But today it was surrounded by greenery, with scattered alpine wildflowers tucked in the shadow of the building. Campbell was sitting on the front porch, looking down curiously at the unfamiliar car dropping off its passengers. When she saw me climb out carrying Lou, she rushed down the driveway.
“What happened?” she asked. “Was it that creature—the one that tore up Victor’s leg?”
“No, something else. It’s a long story. He got caught by a much larger creature—it caught him with its claw.”
She took him out of my arms and started back up the driveway. Lou didn’t protest—despite his dislike of being carried. He was now beyond caring.
“Victor told me about another Ifrit that had been attacked—that’s why I thought of it. An Ifrit named Jackie—do you know him?” I did. Jackie was a weasel, or maybe a stoat.
“Sure,” I said. Vikki’s Ifrit. “Is he okay?” I asked.
“Apparently. He was too quick for the creature, I guess. Escaped out a window. But Victor was worried because for the first time that thing actually came right into a practitioner’s house, I guess. That practitioner wasn’t home at the time, but still . . .”
That was disturbing. It was getting bolder. Right now I had more important things to worry about, though.
Inside Campbell’s cabin, all was calm. The sun streamed though the windows, lighting up dust motes in the air, sending them twinkling and sparkling throughout the room. Campbell’s collection of colored-glass jars where she kept her herbs and plants glowed merrily as the sunlight hit them, deep blues and greens and ambers. The patterned spread on the corner futon was new and colorful, and as always, the room was neat and tidy without being anal. In comparison, my own little basement apartment, scattered and disorganized, was sad indeed.
Campbell set Lou down on a coir mat on the floor and ran her hands over him. When she glanced up at me I put my hands out, palms up, in that universal gesture that asks a question.
“He’ll be all right,” she said. “The injury’s bad, but not as bad as I thought. Lou’s tougher than he looks. But he’s almost completely used up.”
I explained why that was, and she briefly pursed her lips in disapproval.
“No choice,” I said.
Campbell busied herself among the jars of plants, choosing a few at what seemed like random, although I knew it wasn’t.
“I can heal most of the damage,” she said, “but after that energy boost, to really heal up he’s going to need an awful lot of rest.” She started a kettle on the stove, laid out a small collection of the plants and herbs, and shot me a brief look. “You look tired, too. Coffee?”
“Bless you, yes.”
I threw my jacket in a corner and sat by the window, watching as she measured out coffee into the coffeemaker and poured water over the plants she had mixed, steeping them like tea. As she moved back and forth, the sun coming through the window struck her blond hair and lit it like a halo. It was such a scene of domestic tranquility that it made me nostalgic, and a bit regretful.
I could live here,
I thought.
I could live with this woman.
Well, maybe not. After all, it hadn’t worked out the last time. Still, a lot had happened since then, to both of us. I wasn’t the same person, and neither was she.
Campbell turned to ask me something and caught me staring.
“What?” she said. I shook my head.
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
She regarded me for a long moment. “Yeah. Sometimes I do some of that thinking myself.” She smiled thoughtfully, but not sadly at all.
When her concoction of herbs was ready, she put it aside to cool, then looked down doubtfully at Lou.
“He needs to drink this, but it’s bitter. Downright nasty, in fact. How are we going to get it down him?”
“Not a problem,” I said. “I’ll trick him into thinking it’s a plate of your pancakes.”
Campbell’s pancakes were a special treat, Lou’s favorite. Mine were definitely second-rate in comparison. Campbell looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“You’ll what?”
“Just kidding. He’ll drink if I tell him it will make him well. It’s not like he’s only a dog, you know.”
“Ah, yes. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”
As we drank coffee, waiting for the infusion to cool, I filled her in on everything that had happened. She listened intently, leaning forward in her usual position, elbow on the table, chin in hand.
“So Ruby wasn’t really Ruby? She was this shape-shifting creature?”
“So it would seem.”
“When did that happen? Before I met her at Mama Yara’s store, or after?”
“Before, I think. But I don’t really know.”
“Weird,” she said. “And creepy.”
“Very,” I agreed. She thought for a moment.
“And there’s still another one of these things running around?”
“Apparently.”
“And it can look like anyone?”
“Pretty much. Although to become a perfect copy, it has to kill and eat part of its victim.”
“Yuck.” She was silent again, turning it over in her mind. “So what if this isn’t really you sitting here? I wouldn’t be able to tell, right? It’s hard to wrap my mind around that.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s very existential.”
“Must be hell on someone with trust issues to begin with.”
“Well, don’t worry,” I said. “Lou wouldn’t be fooled, not about me. Besides, if I were a monster, I’d have already killed and eaten you.”
“Very reassuring,” she said, “but I wasn’t talking about
me
.” She looked at me pointedly until I got whom she meant.
“Oh.”
Now I remembered one of the reasons we’d broken up. Campbell was a lot quicker on the uptake than I was, and that sometimes made me uneasy. But that no longer bothered me. I couldn’t remember why it ever had.
Campbell got up from the table and tested the liquid she’d prepared, then poured it into a bowl. It looked vile, and I wondered if I had spoken too soon about convincing Lou to drink it. She put the bowl down next to him, and he looked at it without interest. I crouched down next to him and pulled gently on an ear.
“Lou,” I said. “It’s medicine. Drink it. It’ll make you better.” He appeared unconvinced.
“It’s not that bad.” I put a finger into the bowl and took a taste. It was that bad. “You really want to die?” I said. “There’s no bacon in heaven, you know.” That might be an exaggeration, at least the part about dying, but I couldn’t afford to have him out of commission for a month. And with things like infection lurking, it might even be true.
He hauled himself to his feet, took a couple of weak licks at it, retched convincingly, and then started lapping it down like it was beef gravy. He got about three quarters of it down before he stopped and retched again. I was afraid he was going to throw up, which would make the entire ordeal useless, but he managed to keep it down. He looked at the rest and turned away. Clearly he would sooner die than drink another drop.
“That should be enough,” Campbell said, took the bowl away, and sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him.
She placed her hands over the wounded part and slowly stroked it with a circular motion. As she did, she softly hummed a wordless tune. Lou’s eyes half closed, then his muzzle sank down on the floor, then his eyes closed the rest of the way. Campbell continued on for about a minute more, then gently removed her hands and carefully stood up. She smiled at him and suddenly clapped her hands together, making me jump.
Lou jumped as well. One second he was snoozing on the mat; the next he was standing on all fours. He took a couple of steps forward, stopped to assess things, and then walked deliberately across the room and back. He still had a slight limp, but other than that he seemed fine. He lay down and closed his eyes again.
“He’ll need to sleep for at least twenty-four hours before he’ll be back to normal,” Campbell said. “It took a lot out of him.”
“What about you?” I asked. I knew Campbell would be worn-out as well, since healing can take a lot of energy, especially when it’s something major.
“Me? I’m fine. Remember, he’s not very big, so it didn’t take all that much energy.”
“Good,” I said. “And thanks.” I got up and stretched. “We hate to eat and run, but we’ve got to get back to the city. While we’re sitting here in the sunshine, one of those shape-shifters is stalking the streets back in the city. Any chance you could drive me back?”
“Sure,” she said. “But it’s too late for a long round trip. I’d have to stay over.”
“Of course. My clever plan is working.”
“You mean all this drama was just a cover to get me to stay overnight? How flattering.”
Interesting. Somehow, Campbell and I had started flirting again. I wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything.
“You do remember there’s only one bed?” I said.
“How could I forget? But I’m not worried. Lou will protect me.”
Indeed he would. His usual place to sleep is under the covers—he’s cold-blooded and San Francisco gets chilly at night, even in summer. If I’m lucky enough to have company, his favored position is to be wedged between me and my guest, a living bundling board. He’ll discreetly withdraw if things start to get serious, but it can make spontaneity difficult.
Campbell threw a few necessities into an overnight bag. I called Eli, got his voice mail, and let him know I’d found Lou. Ten minutes later, we were in Campbell’s old Land Cruiser, headed to San Francisco. By the time we made it back to my place it was just past nine.
Campbell unpacked her travel bag and settled in. Lou was still dead to the world but I had managed to catch a few winks on the way back, so I was awake enough that we could go out and grab a late bite to eat. Lou attempted to come along with us, bleary-eyed and yawning, but it didn’t take much convincing to get him to go back to sleep.
Dinner was fun, even with the specter of the second shape-shifter hanging around the corners of my mind. We talked about this and that, nothing heavy, comfortable and at ease, connected in that way you can sometimes be with an old girlfriend when the post-breakup tension is finally gone.
When we got back to my place, I did wonder if it was going to lead anywhere, but the inevitable ringing of the phone made the issue moot. It was Victor, and he had news.
SEVENTEEN
“WE’VE GOT A LEAD,” VICTOR SAID. “GET OVER here.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, now. Why else would I call?”
“What have you got?” I asked.
“Never mind that. Just get over here.” He hung up the phone before I could ask anything else.
“Who was that?” Campbell asked.
“Victor. Duty calls.” I looked over at Lou, dead to the world again. “I hate to go out without him, but he doesn’t look in shape to do much.”
“He’s not,” she said. “Something dangerous, I assume.”
“Maybe. You going to be all right here?”
“Of course. I’ll keep an eye on Lou.” She shook her head in resignation. “Hanging out with you is like Ground-hog Day, Mason. Monsters. Midnight missions. Death-defying feats.”
“It’s all Victor’s fault,” I said.
“Of course it is. Be careful, will you?”
WHEN I REACHED VICTOR’S HE WAS OUTSIDE waiting for me, pacing impatiently up and down. Eli was leaning against the side of Victor’s Beemer, looking tired.
“Took you long enough,” Victor said. It had been all of twenty minutes.
“Where’s Lou?”
“He’s home, recovering. He got hurt.”
“Ahh,” said Eli, looking at me strangely. I waited for some further elucidation, but that was all he said.
“Get in,” Victor said, opening the passenger-side door. I got in and sank into the comfortable seat.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Telegraph Hill. By Coit Tower. “
“You think it’s up there? How do you know?”
“We have information,” said Eli, “from Bertram.” He lapsed into silence. This was odd. Neither one of them asked anything about what had happened to Lou, or how he was doing. They were focused and intense.
Bertram. I didn’t know how I felt about that. He had been an enforcer for a while, but after a number of unfortunate incidents, Victor had stopped using him for anything. Bertram had a take-no-prisoners attitude, and could easily escalate a minor situation into a major one. Cops have a phrase for that—“badge heavy.”
Eli had already vetoed his involvement once before, when we trapped the Wendigo. But apparently things had got desperate. Bertram could come in handy when results were needed and the methods used to get them weren’t a primary concern. His specialty was intelligence, which in his case meant leaning on people in creative ways until they told him what he wanted to know. I didn’t like him much.