Aurendel - Strays

The wolf gave Jack a long look before saying anything. “Breaking and entering?” it asked.

“It’s only Wednesday night. Downey won’t be back til Monday. Anything could happen. The sooner we get you back on your quest,” said Jack, glowering, “the better. Especially,” he added, “if you want to get your story before the summer meeting or what have you.”

“I haven’t forgotten my task,” the wolf said, gravely. It didn’t look any too pleased at the reminder.

“Furthermore,” Jack went on, “I’m not used to guests, and need to concentrate on finishing my book.”

“I’ll try to--how did Kate put it?--stay out of your hair,” the wolf replied. Jack thought he caught a hint of irony in its tone.

“At any rate, I think we oughtta sneak into Downey's shop, find the mirror, and send you home. It’s not like we’d be stealing, since we’d leave the mirror right there.”

The wolf thought for a moment. Then it said, slowly, “You may be right, Jack. I don’t belong here. You’ve got a nice place, and you’ve been a good host, but just when I think I’m starting to figure things out, it gets strange again. I should get back to my mission.”

“What about the leg?”

“I’ll be fine. Wolves heal quickly.”

Jack humphed. “All right. Let’s go.”

The two left the house and climbed into Jack’s truck, the wolf examining everything curiously, watching Jack manipulate the clutch and the stick. It peered out the windows, fascinated by the trees speeding by so quickly. Jack hoped it wouldn’t roll down the window and stick its head out. It did, but pulled back in with a yelp when it got a bug in its eye at 50 mph.

Jack took side streets in Okachula, avoiding the main drags until he got downtown. At this time of night and this season of the year, the little downtown had completely rolled up the sidewalks. Everything was closed and dark except the one bar down the street from the antiques shop. Jack parked the truck around the corner where it wouldn’t be noticed. Then, reaching across the wolf, he pulled a flashlight out of the glove box. As they got out of the truck, Jack told the wolf, “Don’t be conspicuous. Just follow me.”

Jack led the wolf up the alley that ran behind the strip mall that Downey's was in. He heard it sniffing loudly behind him and shushed it. Wondering how he could be sure which back door was the antique shop, Jack clicked on the flashlight. It wouldn’t do to accidentally break into the jeweler’s! He needn’t have worried, though. Each shop had its name painted on the back door. Gallery West, Okachula Finest Estate and Heirloom Jewelry, ahh. Here it was. Tom Downey's Antiques. The only one with a warehouse door next to the regular one. He dug his Swiss army knife out of his pocket and started going through the tools, trying to decide which would make the best lockpick.

“Jack.” The wolf was trying to get his attention.

“Ssshhh.”

“Jack.” The wolf was persistent.

“What?”

“Why don’t you let me do that?”

Jack looked at the wolf. The flashlight’s glow reflected greenly from its eyes. “I can manage,” he said. It cocked its head at him. “All right, fine.” Let it try.

Jack watched with narrowed eyes, but couldn’t really tell what the wolf did. In seconds, there was a click, and the door swung open. The smell of wood dust, termites, mildew, and moth balls wafted out, making the wolf cover its mouth and nose to smother a sneezing fit. The two of them slipped silently into the shop, Jack’s flashlight sending its beams bobbing randomly off fragile side chairs, gargantuan wardrobes, faded paintings, and dusty china. The two slowly moved through the piles of junk, looking for any telltale gleam of glass.

Mirrors, mirrors, everywhere. On vanities and dressers, in oval mahogany frames, in rococo gilt frames, in no frame at all. There was even a pair of Venetian ones, probably a hundred and fifty years old. But none of them full length and barnacled. They searched and searched, getting covered in cobwebs. Every moment was nerve-wracking. If a car drove by and a gleam of headlights came through the glass of the front door, Jack expected it to be the sheriff--though he knew Vin Taylor would be at home with his family this time of night. More than once he was sure the wolf’s crutches would send bric-a-brac crashing to the floor. By the time they’d examined every inch of the place, Jack felt like he’d been running a marathon. He was sweating and shaking. “I’m gettin’ too old for this,” he grunted.

“It’s not here,” said the wolf.

Jack had to agree.

“Where is it, Jack?”

Somehow, Jack didn’t like the wolf’s tone. He snapped back, “How in hell should I know?”

The wolf growled. “I need to go home, Jack. I don’t belong here.”

“Let me think.”

Abruptly the wolf was in his face. “Where. Is. The. Mirror. Jack.”

Despite the oppressive heat of the closed shop, Jack was suddenly cold all over. He could see not only the green animal phosphorescence of its eyes but also the sharp white teeth protruding from its mouth.

“Downey was going to a roadshow to do some trading. He must have taken it with him to try to sell, or maybe get someone to identify it.”

“Wrong. Answer. Jack.” it growled. “I need that mirror. I can’t stay here. My pack is depending on me, as you so kindly reminded me earlier.”

“Looks like we wait for Monday after all. A piece like that, he’ll remember what became of. We’ll track it down.” Jack soothed the angry beast the best he could, keeping his fear at bay. Never do to show weakness to a wolf.

The wolf leaned heavily against a bureau. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Come on, let’s get home.”

“Your home, Jack. Not mine.”

Jack had no answer for that as the wolf relocked the shop door and followed him back to the truck.