Page 8

Chapter 8

G ordon was faster getting dressed, and so it fell to him to accompany Mil across the hallway to her granny’s home so the little wolf could put on clothes as well. Inwardly, Gordon was freaking out. He had been very truthful with Adler; looking after children wasn’t anything he had any type of experience with.

“Are you taking me to work with you?” Mil asked, her voice sounding smaller in the echoey hallway.

“Not today. I only take interns,” Gordon said.

Mil dropped her head. “Can I be your intern?”

Gordon held the apartment door for her, and she walked inside. The place Mil shared with her grandma was nice, although Mil’s was a lace-loving grandma as was obvious in the curtains and patterned throw pillows. Gordon had also noted a warm scent in here when he’d been over earlier, something like ginger cookies or a type of herbal tea. It was a comfortable place, and Gordon hated that Mil had to leave it.

“You’re too young to be my intern, but maybe in about ten years or so. Uh, you’ll have to go to NAU though. This is your room, right?”

Mil nodded and went ahead into the colorful bedroom that was a blend of things for children and things not so, at least at first glance: on the desk that had felt tip doodles on one leg, there lived a small tower of books more appropriate for older readers. Gordon was delighted to see Discworld on that pile. Next to the bed, on a shelf, there was a woman’s purse, too big to be Mil’s and too high end for a child. A carpet laid out in front of the bed clashed as well, the colors dark, not the light green and yellow on the wall.

Gordon looked around. “Okay. You need clothes. Do you, erm. Do you need help getting dressed?”

Mil looked up at him. “No. But the nice sweaters are on a higher shelf. Do I need to bring my nice sweaters?”

Good fucking question. “We’re taking you to a bar so…”

“Where people drink? Like in movies?”

“Well. Technically. But it’s probably fine. It’s a childcare bar. Do you want to wear a nice sweater for that?”

Mil hesitated, then gave a nod. She went over to the wardrobe and pointed at a shelf above her reach. “Can I get that brown one there? Grandma says maroon, but maroon sounds ugly. It’s not really ugly. She bought it for me, and I really like it.”

Gordon nodded and pulled out the requested sweater. Behind that, he saw a set of black clothes, all the way in the back. He didn’t know, wasn’t going to ask Mil, but by the look of them, they were funeral clothes, maybe the very ones Mil had worn for her parents.

Gordon shuddered because he still remembered Paula’s funeral like it had been yesterday, the bleakness indelible and bright.

Mil looked at him with wide eyes when he handed her the sweater. “Are you okay? Are you cold? Grandma has a blanket. A blanky. We snuggle under it sometimes when we read together or watch TV.”

Right. Werewolves are perceptive. I should know. “I’m fine. Do you need anything else?”

Mil shook her head, and Gordon watched her gather an outfit together. He turned when she began changing. Mil showed no signs of being embarrassed or uncomfortable with Gordon being there, pretty much a given for someone who’d probably stripped alongside other members of the pack since their earliest childhood.

“I’m done,” she told him, having managed surprisingly quickly.

Gordon turned. “Cool. Anything else you need? Remember, we’ll go back later today to get everything for that sleepover party we’re going to have at Adler’s place. Just what you need for now.”

“For skipping school?”

Gordon leaned toward her. “It’s okay to skip every once in a while.”

“But don’t you have to have good grades for NAU?”

Gordon couldn’t help it. He chuckled. Mil’s eyes remained large and slightly anxious though. “You’re already the more studious one between us. Okay. What do you need?”

Mil looked around, then grabbed her things: a book clutched alongside her stuffed bunny, one of the Dragon Tamer series Gordon had loaned her before the last full moon. It had been on her nightstand.

“This is fine,” she told him. And then, she reached for his hand, took it in hers.

“Okay.” Gordon led her outside, though she pointed out where her grandma kept the keys.

Gordon locked the apartment behind them, and Adler came out of his place seconds later, looking at his phone, the work bag in which he had his laptop and tablet in hand.

The wolf smiled when he laid eyes on Gordon. Okay, so he does like seeing me minding the pups. At least one pup. Something I have no qualification for at all.

“Ready to go?” Adler asked.

Mil looked up at Gordon.

“We’re ready,” Gordon said.

The day was cloudy, but the sun was poking through the clouds. The weather could go either way, either becoming fully overcast or giving way to bright sunshine later.

Gordon hoped for the former.

“What about school tomorrow?” Mil asked Gordon on their way to the car.

“We’ll figure that out,” Adler told her.

That ended the conversation. Gordon wasn’t sure whether it was because they were all of them exhausted or whether it was because Adler was that much higher ranking than Mil.

Either way, Gordon considered all the figuring out that had to happen. Recovery after a stroke can be pretty long, even for a wolf. This might be weeks.

When Mil got in the back of Adler’s car and fastened the seat belt there, Gordon frowned. Fuck, we need a list of things to figure out, like a car seat.

Adler, probably because he could sense some of what Gordon was worrying about, reached over to him, caressing his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Adler looked over at him, light brown eyes twinkling. “Just for being here. Okay, everyone buckled in?”

“Yes,” Mil and Gordon said together.

Adler, smiling to himself, reversed out of his parking spot and took them to the hunter’s place, going close to the speed limit.

The three of them barely made it ten steps into 43 Ruthaven before the spare and very glum Lar—Clement—approached them.

“Hello,” Clement said. He had short, strawberry blond hair and brown eyes. Gordon didn’t know all that much about him except that he had been burned and wasn’t feeling at home living in Maxim’s huge house. “That is the child?” Clement pointed at Mil who had taken up position behind Gordon’s legs. Only now did it occur to Gordon to wonder whether it really was such a brilliant idea to leave Mil here.

“I apologize, that one is rude,” said Bryan, the family Lar, from behind his reception desk upon which an overflowing fruit bowl was fully on display.

Gordon felt Mil’s fingers dig into his side, even through his jacket. “Can I stay in the car?” she asked on a whisper.

Gordon untangled Mil’s fingers. “How about next time you get to stay in the car? If you can handle staying with Clement this time that is.”

Clement gave them an acerbic look. “I assure you, Dr. Morris, I am capable of watching over a child.”

There was a snort from Bryan, who readjusted a pear in his fruit bowl so its sun reddened cheek was facing them.

Gordon sensed Adler’s discomfort, noticed that he straightened, made himself bigger as if he wanted to preemptively smother any conflict with the pure size of him.

“Well, this is Milea,” Adler said, and Gordon gently pushed her forward.

“Little one, my name is Clement,” the Lar said softly, going to a knee. “You look like you need but a quiet place to read. Shall we go find one while Dr. Morris and Detective Adler go to work?”

Mil looked at the hand he was holding out toward her and looked from Gordon to Adler, who nodded in encouragement, before she took it. She looked back at them over her shoulder as Clement led her to the elevators.

“Call if—I don’t know,” Adler told Bryan as Clement and Mil vanished in an elevator. “Just call.”

“Of course, but please don’t worry,” Bryan said. “I’ll keep an eye on them—I always keep an eye on Clement anyways. Perhaps this will distract him from being so glum all the time. The donors are talking about him, you know, and he makes the atmosphere up there in the restaurant so dark.” Bryan adjusted the fruit bowl yet again, this time paying attention to a tangerine with a bit of stalk and one oval leaf still attached to its top. “I don’t like it.” Clearly, the Lar was jealous.

Adler frowned. “Look, her only remaining family is in the hospital. Maybe—”

But Bryan shook his head, raising a hand in protest. “No, no. I will watch them. They will be fine, I promise on Maxim’s name.”

Adler’s frown deepened. “On his name?”

Bryan shrugged. “I am the Lar here, so I may do that.”

Oh dear, confused werewolf, Gordon thought when Adler cocked his head.

“I’ll tell you in the car, Adler. We should go.”

Adler nodded, his focus already shifting to Gordon quickly enough. Must be that mate thing at work again. Now I wonder what Maxim wants both of us for.

Gordon sighed, prompting Adler to put an arm around his shoulders for the short walk to the car.