Inquisitor (Witch & Wolf Book 1) (12 page)

“Why?” Peter asked.

I couldn’t tell if he was curious or surprised.

At least Samantha was easy enough to understand. The scent of her rage overwhelmed every other scent in the SUV.

“Allie, if you’ve forgotten, is allergic to dogs, Peter. Just ask for proof from her doctor. She’d never, ever, under any circumstance, go anywhere with a dog.” The clipped way she spoke the words kept Peter silent. Samantha reminded me of a caged bear poked with a stick one too many times by its handler. “How long do we have until the cops try to pick her up?”

“I mean it
, Samantha. Don’t get involved. Allison, you have four or five hours, tops. I’ll tip them off about the dog allergies. How bad are they?”

“They’re bad,” I replied. I couldn’t tell him most of the truth, so I settled with what the doctor prescribed. “I carry an epi-pen, pills, and an inhaler, all doctor prescribed. The pharmacy charges are on my card.”

“Good. That’s easy to trace, then. That’ll help a lot. Samantha, I expect you back in New York by tomorrow morning.”

Samantha was smiling. I felt my brows rise. Whatever the witch was planning on saying, it wasn’t good, and I didn’t dare stop her.

A smart wolf didn’t interfere with another woman’s hunt.

“Forget it, Peter.”

“Samantha!”

“Forget it, Peter. We’re riding this one all the way down like a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. Thanks for the help, and take care.” Samantha hung up, cocking her head towards me. “I didn’t like that job anyway.”

When the phone rang again half a minute later, the old witch ignored it.

Samantha stopped for gas twice before we reached Cleveland. I kept my mouth shut, staring at the clock for most of the trip, watching the minutes tick by.

Eight hours later, and Samantha hadn
’t said a word since hanging up on Peter. Blaming myself wouldn’t fix anything or clear my name, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were about to do something we’d regret.

If I didn’t do everything just right, I’d take Samantha down with me in a blaze of glory. I stared out the window. Thick clouds hastened the darkening of the sky.

“Do you have a sewing kit?” I asked.

Samantha gestured at the glove box. I popped it open, fishing out a little pink box. The corners of my mouth twitched, but I decided it was in my better interest not to comment on the color. Grabbing my purse, I pulled out my wallet and threw the rest in the back.

At least being a werewolf had some perks, though I hoped I never had to see an eye doctor. They’d question how a human could possibly have night vision.

I could feel Samantha stealing glances at me as I attacked the seams of my wallet with the pair of tiny scissors I had liberated from the sewing kit. “Mind finding us an Enterprise or somewhere with a mall nearby so we can dump the tank?”

The Grand Master of the Silent Treatment glared at me. One day I’d have to find out how she managed to turn on the GPS navigation unit embedded in the center console and order it to the nearest rental place without uttering a single word. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve accused her of being a wizard.

But then again, angry witches weren’t to be tangled with if possible.

The phone rang. I jumped, the scissors stabbing into my finger. I hissed, shaking my hand before sucking at the wound.

To my surprise, Samantha answered. There was a long moment of silence.

“Samantha?” Peter asked.

The old witch grunted. I bowed my head, resuming my tedious task of picking out stitches.

“Allison’s been cleared for now. They’re not even going to bring her in for questioning due to the overwhelming evidence there was no way she should have committed the murder. The severity of her allergies and the trip to Walmart both helped establish her alibi.”

Samantha answered Peter with a huff.

“Right. Queenie, are you there?”

“She hasn’t run us off a cliff or shot me yet,” I replied, picking out another stitch. “How did you find all of this out?”

Samantha glanced at me. When I turned to face her, she nodded before focusing her attention back on the road. I nodded in reply. Dealing with Peter was something I could do. Maybe by the time I was done with him, she’d decide to speak to me again.

“Friends in high places,” he replied in a neutral tone.

I arched my brows. “Friends in places high enough to flaunt police procedure?”

“It’s in our better interest to see your name cleared.”

Somehow I resisted the urge to snort. Truth supported his statement. Peter didn’t care where I got my money, so long as it looked like I had more cash than sense. With the balances I ran through one card alone, one day’s interest alone could pay a month’s salary for an employee. If I was accused and imprisoned, they’d lose a lot of potential income.

“Don’t suppose you know who set me up?”

“No idea. It’s being looked into. I can’t tell you any more than that.”

Wrinkling my nose at the SUV’s dashboard, I yanked out another stitch. “Fine. Thanks for the help, Peter. Don’t call back.” I paused. The line remained connected. While Peter was just another human, I’d known him for long enough I started to regret the hard edge to my voice. I forced my tone to soften. “Goodbye, Peter.”

Samantha punched the disconnect button with a little more force than necessary. “That sounded like a rather final goodbye, Allison.”

“With a little luck, it is. You can change your mind, Samantha. I can go at this alone. Will your kids be okay without you?”

“They’re with their mom, living their lives as they should. It’s not a problem.”

“Bullshit,” I spat.

“It’s true, Allison. I love them, but they were never mine.” Samantha’s sigh froze me from the inside out.

I kept silent, staring down at the wallet. Its seam was half destroyed, but I was unable to force my fingers back into motion.

“Look, I knew this would happen someday anyway. I can’t stay young forever, I guess. What about you? It’s a lot harder for you to hide,” Samantha continued with a shrug.

“Do you have your real ID on you?”

That earned me a snort. “Of course.”

I returned to my work. Stitch by stitch, I dismantled the rest of the seam. I dug my fingers into the opening and pulled out three cards. “It’s not a problem. How good are you at cutting hair? You’ll need to match a style.”

Samantha laughed, but it was a short, bitter sound. “I think can manage. What’s the plan?”

“I’ll get a rental. There’s something I need to pick up from Atlanta.”

“Atlanta? Don’t tell me we’re going to your condo.”

It was my turn to snort. “Hell no. I need something from a storage unit in the outskirts. It’ll take ten minutes.”

“We’re driving
how
far for a ten minute detour?”

I couldn’t quite manage to smother my smirk. “I thought you liked road trips.”

“Allison…”

“Fine, fine. I need to pick up some papers so I can get a new cell phone.”

If looks could kill, I suspected I would’ve been a pile of cinders in the span of a minute. “How is a
cell phone
going to help us?”

“You’ll see.”

“You know I hate when you do that, right?” Samantha drummed her fingers on the wheel.

“Less talkie, more drivie.”

“Hotel first,” Samantha grumbled.

I countered with a dainty sniffle. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner, hotel, then rental.”

“Deal.”

Samantha hummed. “How does steak sound to you?”

“Buffet?”

There was a moment of silence followed by a soft, snorted laugh. I glanced at Samantha. Worry lines marred her brow. “Just how hungry are you?” she asked.

“I could eat a horse,” I quipped.

Samantha whipped her head around and stared at me, her eyes widening with alarm.

“Damn it, not a live one! Eyes on the road, eyes on the road!”

Spitting curses at me, Samantha forced her attention back to driving. Tapping my ID and credit cards against my leg, I craned my neck to try to catch a glimpse of the moon through the clouds.

My wolf slumbered.

~*~

Once upon a time, I suspected the long mirror had been mounted on the wall instead of leaning against it. Peeling paint and the warping of the frame distorted my image. I shivered, eying the cracking paint covering the tacky wallpaper, expecting an army of termites to come pouring through at any moment.

The stench of smoke numbed my nose, and judging by the sweet smell, I doubted the last tenant had cared much for tobacco. I tried breathing out of my mouth. Could werewolves get high from second-hand smoke? I suspected I’d find out before morning.

I closed my eyes and listened to the snip of the scissors. With each cut, weight fell away from my head. I could feel the locks fall around my feet, tickling as the hair settled to the floor.

“Go shower,” Samantha ordered. “If I cut the rest as is, it’ll look like a rat’s nest.”

I snorted. Changing into a wolf and back to human again hadn’t done my curls any favors. The car ride hadn’t, either. “That’s not far from how it should look,” I reminded her.

“A punkish pixie cut is far more refined than a rat’s nest.”

“Fine,” I muttered, stalking into the bathroom. Maybe a shower would purge the creepy-crawly, too-filthy-to-be-legal feeling from my skin. Being dirty beat having allergies, though. The knob for the cold water was stuck, and not even my inhuman strength could turn it. I eyed the hot water warily. Maybe I could scald the wolf out of me.

A smart woman would’ve tested the water outside of the tub. Jaw set with determination, I turned the hot water on as fast as I could before retreating out of the spray.

Cold water burst out.

I ground my teeth from disgust, trying not to stare too hard at the streaks in the tub I hoped were from rust. Taking the quickest shower of my life, I toweled off, hoping I didn’t contract fleas. When I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the cheapest bathrobe Walmart sold, Samantha stood opening and closing the scissors.

Even when wet, my head felt a lot lighter without the majority of my thick mane.

“The picture,” Samantha demanded. I scooped the ID off of the dresser and tossed it to her.

“Allison Victoria Hanover? Are you serious? Dear god, it says you’re forty-seven.”

I grinned. “The haircut helps pull it off.”

“No shit. How long have you been running this ID?”

The question was expected, but I didn’t want to think about the years. It was my true name, a whim I had regretted not even a month after I had created the identity. The memories I had sworn to forget roused each and every time someone said my name. “Thirty years,” I whispered.

“That long? Damn, woman. How are you going to pull this off? You don’t look a day over twenty-five.” Samantha went back to snipping the scissors at the air, her expression neutral.

“I just say I was blessed with longevity and a little help from the modern marvels of cosmetic surgery. Don’t worry about it,” I replied, gesturing to her weapon of mass hair destruction. “Do your worst.”

Samantha wrinkled her nose. “I’ll make it a little longer than the picture so it looks more natural.”

Without answering, I sank into the tattered chair, leaning my back against one of the chair and dangling my legs over the other while Samantha went to work. It’d been a long time since I’d cut my hair to play the other Allison—the one I didn’t want to acknowledge or rely on, but had to.

“You didn’t tell me about this Allison.”

I flinched. “I don’t like her.”

“How can you not like her? She’s you, isn’t she?”

“Maybe that’s why I don’t like her,” I muttered.

“Fine, if you’re going to be that way about it. What do we do after we get to Atlanta?”

“Once I have a new cell, I make arrangements for your new job?”

The snip of the scissors ceased. “What makes you think I’m looking for a new job?”

“I’ve a hundred thousand reasons why you are, paid out over the course of a year.”

After a long pause, the snipping resumed. “That’s not fair.”

“Sure it is. You pay the kids’ mother to let you pretend her kids are yours. It’s not cheap. You couldn’t have been making a lot of money with Amex.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t.” Samantha tugged on my hair. “I wasn’t making enough.”

I heard the hurt in Samantha’s voice and winced. “Well, I’ll fix that. It’s hard work, and your boss is a real bitch, but you’ll have enough to pay off your debt to Peter without starving yourself.”

“Four point six,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Million. My debt.” Samantha kept cutting my hair.