Author's Note: Thank you, Nightengale 13, for your sharp eyes! (and for your continued readership! It's MUCH appreciated *^_^*) Hopefully the Curse of Names has been lifted.
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Chapter 14
**********
Kirei let herself into her studio via the back door. She quickly walked through the compact living quarters, closing the shoji screen behind herself as she entered her workshop. Only Roger and Dorothy knew about the tiny hidden apartment (they both had keys as well) and she intended to keep it that way.
Whatever happened, Dastun would not take Roger's place, no matter how hard the negotiator pushed or how well-meaning his actions. She would choose her own path. She never could be controlled by outside forces (other than by the harshest measures--memories of her first pack started to well up--No, she thought, not now! I don't want to cry. Dastun will notice and start asking questions.) She growled unconsciously.
Meanwhile, she HAD agreed to meet the major here around noon. She had to busy herself with something. There were a couple of commissioned pieces that needed to be finished. That would fill the next few hours nicely. Much better to keep herself occupied than drive herself crazy trying to read her packmates' minds.
The little shapeshifter pulled off her bulky sweater and went to work, losing herself in the final details of stone setting. It required all her attention to get the gems seated just so, to secure and polish the tiny prongs and bezels without destroying everything in the process. It was almost a form of active meditation, allowing her to lose track of time and trouble. Thus, she was roundly startled by the sharp sound of someone knocking on the front door of the shop.
It was Dastun, punctual as ever. He was in uniform, every button brightly polished. Kirei let him in, greeting him with a polite smile. To her surprise, he bent down and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek as he entered.
Once inside the privacy of her studio, he apologized for taking such a liberty. "I don't know if the bad guys are watching me, just like we're watching them," he explained sheepishly. "We have to make it look real."
"Um, that's okay, I guess," replied Kirei uncertainly. Just how far was this charade supposed to go? "Look," she continued, changing the subject, "let me clean up and we'll leave, okay?" She held up her hands. The palms and fingertips were stained red with polishing compound.
"Sure," Dastun nodded, watching her return to the workshop in back. He decided she looked just as good this way (no makeup, regular clothes) as she did dressed up. The black jeans and fitted tee showed off her trim figure very nicely.
The major glanced around the tiny shop before following her to the back. For some reason he had expected it to be dark and brooding like Smith's place. He couldn't have been more wrong. It was light and bright, with teak floors and asian-inspired display cases for the jewelry. Intensely colored paintings hung on the walls. It was kind of a shock, actually. How could she stand living in that gloomy house? He shook his head, confused. How did Roger attract and keep someone like this? What WAS the negotiator's secret?
"Is this all your work?" he asked, wandering past the wall divider into her work space.
"Yup," the small woman answered, drying her hands with a paper towel. Kirei gestured around the room with a nod of her head. "This is where I do it."
Although chaotic at first glance, it was actually extremely organized. A couple of large easels (both with unfinished portraits) were off to one side. One wall was hung floor to ceiling with innumerable strands of beads and pearls--precious, semi-precious, stone, glass, metal, in every shape, size, and color imaginable. Carefully labeled cabinets were stacked in a corner beside a compact work table full of equipment. Another larger table held stacks of finished drawings and canvases. A closed shoji screen served as a back wall.
"I'm impressed," the major stammered, at a loss for words.
"Don't be," replied Kirei. "I'm not. It's not like it's brain surgery." She shrugged gracefully, then slipped her heavy pullover back on. "Where are we going?"
"Where? Oh, yes." Dastun gathered his thoughts. "I thought we'd grab a quick bite, and then I want to take you to the shooting range. I think it would be a good idea to familiarize you with guns just to be safe. This case might be dangerous down the line. I need to be sure you can handle yourself in a tight spot."
Kirei smiled slightly at him, her dark eyes twinkling with amusement. He liked that a lot. Down boy, he thought. She's somebody else's...at least for now.
"If you insist," she said, "but I do know my way around weapons. It's really not necessary."
"We'll see," replied Dastun. He had seen too many over-confident rookies nearly get themselves killed in the past. He was not about to let a civilian do the same thing, especially not this one.
The major took her to the police shooting range after lunch. A sample of every sort of firearm used by the dept was set up on a table for them, all fully loaded and ready to go. A row of paper targets was also prepared.
Kirei listened quietly as Dastun explained the rules of the range, then how to use each type of weapon. They both then put on ear and eye protection. The major next demonstrated the proper ways to stand, hold the gun, aim. He fired several rounds, expertly hitting the general vicinity of the bullseye in a nice tight grouping. He put the gun down.
"Now you try it," he said, pointing to the weapon.
"Major Dastun, this really is not necessary," Kirei protested again, albeit politely.
"Yes, it is," replied Dastun firmly. "And please call me Dan. You have to make it a habit, just in case."
The little shapeshifter sighed. If Roger hadn't expected her to cooperate, she would have simply refused. Well, if this was what her alpha wanted, so be it. She picked up the gun and in one swift graceful movement aimed and fired.
She hit the target dead center.
Dastun's eyes widened. "Lucky shot," he commented.
Kirei proceeded to pick up each weapon in turn and go down the line of targets. She hit each bullseye with equal proficiency, regardless of what she was shooting.
The major stood there, jaw gaping. "Um, that is pretty good," he finally stammered.
"Thank you," replied Kirei, carefully putting down the last firearm (it was an Uzi.) Her face was unreadable.
Dastun stared at her. Who was this woman? Who taught her how to shoot like that? Certainly not Roger...he hated guns. He wondered uneasily if Roger knew about her...talent.
Just for the hell of it, the major led Kirei into the next room. This was where the "Hogan's Alley" simulation was run. He and his men honed their street skills here. Dan handed the slender brunette a loaded Colt.45 and an extra clip. He explained the rules of the game, and asked it she would be willing to try it. "It's fun," he said. "You might enjoy the challenge."
"Sure," she shrugged. "Why not?" She pulled off the sweater (not wanting to ruin it) and entered the room. At her signal, Dastun set the street scene in motion.
Dan watched her go through it in record time, and with record results. Kirei had a perfect score.
"How did you DO that?" he asked, astonished.
"Practice," she replied laconically. "I did have a life before Roger."
Dastun shook his head in wonderment. He had to know more about her. He had an idea. It was sneaky, but he couldn't think of anything else. She had politely avoided answering most of his more personal questions.
There was a tray of small glasses next to a pitcher of cold water in the back of the room. He poured a couple of glasses full, and brought the tray over, offering the water to Kirei. She thanked him and picked one up, drank, and returned the empty glass to the tray. As she turned away to put her sweater back on, Dastun carefully slipped the glass into an evidence bag and put it in his pocket.
As they were leaving the shooting range, Dastun briefly excused himself, saying he needed to check on a report. He ducked into the forensics lab and dropped off the glass at fingerprinting. They would have the results in a few hours. Every citizen in Paradigm was fingerprinted as a matter of course.
"Thanks for indulging me," the major said as they left M.P.H.Q. "I had to be sure you could, um, handle yourself. Roger would never forgive me if you got hurt helping me."
Kirei shrugged again, then stuck her hands in her jeans pockets. "That's alright, Maj...Dan. Roger knows I'm very good at taking care of myself."
You certainly are, thought Dastun. She was turning into an irresistible mystery. He offered to drive Kirei home, but she demurred, saying she still had work to finish at her studio. The major insisted on escorting her back--somehow they got into a long and involved conversation about the absurdity of life in Paradigm. By the time they arrived at her shop, Dastun had reduced her to giggles with a true story about one of his especially inept superiors.
There was something so sweet and innocent about her obvious pleasure, something so very alluring. The major couldn't help himself--he bent down, placed his hands on her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her gently on the mouth.
She quickly pushed away, astonished. "Dan, WHAT are you doing?"
He just smiled and tipped his hat. "I may need you later this week, if that's okay," he said softly. Kirei slowly nodded, too shocked to speak. She entered her studio and locked the door behind her.
Dastun returned to M.P.H.Q. Kissing her had been stupid, but he didn't care. He could always explain it away as part of the cover story. Whistling to himself, he decided to see what the lab boys in fingerprinting had come up with. He'd soon learn the truth of that strange quiet little woman, know some of the secrets of her pre-Roger life.
To Dastun's surprise the techs hadn't come up with much at all. According to their findings, whoever handled the glass had been wearing gloves, probably made of a very fine and expensive leather. There were absolutely no fingerprints, nothing identifiable at all.
There was something very wrong here. Maybe Kirei wasn't what she seemed to be. Maybe she was big trouble. Maybe Smith was being set up. The negotiator certainly had plenty of enemies. He had learned long ago to be wary of letting just anyone get close. He rarely misjudged people when such a mistake could cost him his life. Smith wouldn't have opened his home to her if she wasn't trustworthy, and yet...Those weapons skills she had were worthy of a good soldier, or...an assassin. The way she attracted male attention like that--she might have seduced Roger, reeling him in til she did whatever damage she was supposed to do.
The major could feel the vein in his forehead begin to throb. This was so confusing. There was something so pleasant, so disarming about the little brunette...he liked her so much! On the other hand, Smith was a long-time friend, despite their differences. Perhaps he should say something to him.
Meanwhile he could do a little digging. There was nothing in the report to indicate Kirei's identity. He would write it up as a rumor concerning possible shooters for hire, highly skilled individuals with no traceable prints, and see if one of his officers could come up with something. Now who to choose? Dastun glanced down at the new transfers' personnel files sitting on his desk. Kennedy had a background in unusual cases, didn't he? He'd give it to him. Grimacing, the major put the report in the young officer's in-box.
Kirei, meanwhile, was extremely annoyed at both the major and the negotiator. She would see this damn case through because she had given her word, but that would be the end of it. As for Roger--he meant well, but she would choose her own companions, thank you very much.
The shapeshifter went into the tiny apartment behind the shoji screen. She pulled out a double picture frame from her dresser and set it on top. It held two photos of Shinji; one in his wolf phase, the other human. He'd written on the second photo the words: "Snowy, I'll always love you," and signed it with both his name and an inked paw print.
Kirei sighed deeply. Those had been difficult times, but she had never doubted Shinji's feelings for her. She decided not to return to Roger's house tonight. She had too much thinking to do.
She pulled her cell phone out and called. Norman answered, crisp and formal as always. "Shall I tell Master Roger you're calling, Miss Snowy? He is on the other line with a client."
"No, don't bother him," replied Kirei. "If he asks for me, tell him I'm staying over at Whitewolf. I've, um, got too much work to do. Thanks, Norman."
Kirei hung up and finally let her hot tears flow. All she wanted was to be in the big bed now, with Roger sweetly caught between Dorothy and herself. She remembered the last time (it felt forever ago), how his strong arms had cuddled them both against him, how she and Dorothy had clasped their hands over his heart.
She wanted, no, she NEEDED to feel safe and wanted and loved like that. She'd had that sense of perfect belonging with her first pack. The loss had nearly killed her soul. The dreadful blow was felt again when, now alone, she tried to mingle with the citizens of Paradigm. Kirei soon learned that, shapeshifter or not, the others all shared a common thread, an assurance of something she lacked. They knew they were all human, at least in the beginning. Every shapeshifter was the result of a disease, something from outside that entered them and changed them forever.
Kirei Snowolf was...something else. Neither her tooth nor claw would infect another, for she had never been infected herself. She was as she had been bred to be. It could be taken from her, but she could never share it. The other shapeshifters felt uncomfortable around her. They sensed that she was neither beast nor human, but both. She had been born a wolf with the gift of shifting; she had been conditioned since birth to think of herself as an animal first.
As for human company--they tended to make her very nervous. Her training had not prepared her to deal with regular people in a casually social context. Fortunately her talent allowed her to carve a niche for herself. Artists were expected to be eccentric.
If it hadn't been for Dorothy, and later Roger, she couldn't imagine where she'd be right now. They both accepted her for what she was. They asked few prying questions about her past. Roger's attitude had been that "Every saint had a past, every sinner had a future." She would share when she was ready, and that had been good enough.
Kirei believed she had truly found a home again...but now it seemed she was wrong. Dorothy was avoiding her, and Roger--she growled in pained frustration.
Maybe Shinji HAD been right in the dream. If she wanted to stay put, maybe she needed to simplify life for everyone.
Roger never did get that puppy for Dorothy's birthday. She hadn't been able to make up her mind. No one had the time to train one anyway.
Maybe a pure-blooded adult wolf would do instead. At least she was already housebroken.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 14
**********
Kirei let herself into her studio via the back door. She quickly walked through the compact living quarters, closing the shoji screen behind herself as she entered her workshop. Only Roger and Dorothy knew about the tiny hidden apartment (they both had keys as well) and she intended to keep it that way.
Whatever happened, Dastun would not take Roger's place, no matter how hard the negotiator pushed or how well-meaning his actions. She would choose her own path. She never could be controlled by outside forces (other than by the harshest measures--memories of her first pack started to well up--No, she thought, not now! I don't want to cry. Dastun will notice and start asking questions.) She growled unconsciously.
Meanwhile, she HAD agreed to meet the major here around noon. She had to busy herself with something. There were a couple of commissioned pieces that needed to be finished. That would fill the next few hours nicely. Much better to keep herself occupied than drive herself crazy trying to read her packmates' minds.
The little shapeshifter pulled off her bulky sweater and went to work, losing herself in the final details of stone setting. It required all her attention to get the gems seated just so, to secure and polish the tiny prongs and bezels without destroying everything in the process. It was almost a form of active meditation, allowing her to lose track of time and trouble. Thus, she was roundly startled by the sharp sound of someone knocking on the front door of the shop.
It was Dastun, punctual as ever. He was in uniform, every button brightly polished. Kirei let him in, greeting him with a polite smile. To her surprise, he bent down and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek as he entered.
Once inside the privacy of her studio, he apologized for taking such a liberty. "I don't know if the bad guys are watching me, just like we're watching them," he explained sheepishly. "We have to make it look real."
"Um, that's okay, I guess," replied Kirei uncertainly. Just how far was this charade supposed to go? "Look," she continued, changing the subject, "let me clean up and we'll leave, okay?" She held up her hands. The palms and fingertips were stained red with polishing compound.
"Sure," Dastun nodded, watching her return to the workshop in back. He decided she looked just as good this way (no makeup, regular clothes) as she did dressed up. The black jeans and fitted tee showed off her trim figure very nicely.
The major glanced around the tiny shop before following her to the back. For some reason he had expected it to be dark and brooding like Smith's place. He couldn't have been more wrong. It was light and bright, with teak floors and asian-inspired display cases for the jewelry. Intensely colored paintings hung on the walls. It was kind of a shock, actually. How could she stand living in that gloomy house? He shook his head, confused. How did Roger attract and keep someone like this? What WAS the negotiator's secret?
"Is this all your work?" he asked, wandering past the wall divider into her work space.
"Yup," the small woman answered, drying her hands with a paper towel. Kirei gestured around the room with a nod of her head. "This is where I do it."
Although chaotic at first glance, it was actually extremely organized. A couple of large easels (both with unfinished portraits) were off to one side. One wall was hung floor to ceiling with innumerable strands of beads and pearls--precious, semi-precious, stone, glass, metal, in every shape, size, and color imaginable. Carefully labeled cabinets were stacked in a corner beside a compact work table full of equipment. Another larger table held stacks of finished drawings and canvases. A closed shoji screen served as a back wall.
"I'm impressed," the major stammered, at a loss for words.
"Don't be," replied Kirei. "I'm not. It's not like it's brain surgery." She shrugged gracefully, then slipped her heavy pullover back on. "Where are we going?"
"Where? Oh, yes." Dastun gathered his thoughts. "I thought we'd grab a quick bite, and then I want to take you to the shooting range. I think it would be a good idea to familiarize you with guns just to be safe. This case might be dangerous down the line. I need to be sure you can handle yourself in a tight spot."
Kirei smiled slightly at him, her dark eyes twinkling with amusement. He liked that a lot. Down boy, he thought. She's somebody else's...at least for now.
"If you insist," she said, "but I do know my way around weapons. It's really not necessary."
"We'll see," replied Dastun. He had seen too many over-confident rookies nearly get themselves killed in the past. He was not about to let a civilian do the same thing, especially not this one.
The major took her to the police shooting range after lunch. A sample of every sort of firearm used by the dept was set up on a table for them, all fully loaded and ready to go. A row of paper targets was also prepared.
Kirei listened quietly as Dastun explained the rules of the range, then how to use each type of weapon. They both then put on ear and eye protection. The major next demonstrated the proper ways to stand, hold the gun, aim. He fired several rounds, expertly hitting the general vicinity of the bullseye in a nice tight grouping. He put the gun down.
"Now you try it," he said, pointing to the weapon.
"Major Dastun, this really is not necessary," Kirei protested again, albeit politely.
"Yes, it is," replied Dastun firmly. "And please call me Dan. You have to make it a habit, just in case."
The little shapeshifter sighed. If Roger hadn't expected her to cooperate, she would have simply refused. Well, if this was what her alpha wanted, so be it. She picked up the gun and in one swift graceful movement aimed and fired.
She hit the target dead center.
Dastun's eyes widened. "Lucky shot," he commented.
Kirei proceeded to pick up each weapon in turn and go down the line of targets. She hit each bullseye with equal proficiency, regardless of what she was shooting.
The major stood there, jaw gaping. "Um, that is pretty good," he finally stammered.
"Thank you," replied Kirei, carefully putting down the last firearm (it was an Uzi.) Her face was unreadable.
Dastun stared at her. Who was this woman? Who taught her how to shoot like that? Certainly not Roger...he hated guns. He wondered uneasily if Roger knew about her...talent.
Just for the hell of it, the major led Kirei into the next room. This was where the "Hogan's Alley" simulation was run. He and his men honed their street skills here. Dan handed the slender brunette a loaded Colt.45 and an extra clip. He explained the rules of the game, and asked it she would be willing to try it. "It's fun," he said. "You might enjoy the challenge."
"Sure," she shrugged. "Why not?" She pulled off the sweater (not wanting to ruin it) and entered the room. At her signal, Dastun set the street scene in motion.
Dan watched her go through it in record time, and with record results. Kirei had a perfect score.
"How did you DO that?" he asked, astonished.
"Practice," she replied laconically. "I did have a life before Roger."
Dastun shook his head in wonderment. He had to know more about her. He had an idea. It was sneaky, but he couldn't think of anything else. She had politely avoided answering most of his more personal questions.
There was a tray of small glasses next to a pitcher of cold water in the back of the room. He poured a couple of glasses full, and brought the tray over, offering the water to Kirei. She thanked him and picked one up, drank, and returned the empty glass to the tray. As she turned away to put her sweater back on, Dastun carefully slipped the glass into an evidence bag and put it in his pocket.
As they were leaving the shooting range, Dastun briefly excused himself, saying he needed to check on a report. He ducked into the forensics lab and dropped off the glass at fingerprinting. They would have the results in a few hours. Every citizen in Paradigm was fingerprinted as a matter of course.
"Thanks for indulging me," the major said as they left M.P.H.Q. "I had to be sure you could, um, handle yourself. Roger would never forgive me if you got hurt helping me."
Kirei shrugged again, then stuck her hands in her jeans pockets. "That's alright, Maj...Dan. Roger knows I'm very good at taking care of myself."
You certainly are, thought Dastun. She was turning into an irresistible mystery. He offered to drive Kirei home, but she demurred, saying she still had work to finish at her studio. The major insisted on escorting her back--somehow they got into a long and involved conversation about the absurdity of life in Paradigm. By the time they arrived at her shop, Dastun had reduced her to giggles with a true story about one of his especially inept superiors.
There was something so sweet and innocent about her obvious pleasure, something so very alluring. The major couldn't help himself--he bent down, placed his hands on her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her gently on the mouth.
She quickly pushed away, astonished. "Dan, WHAT are you doing?"
He just smiled and tipped his hat. "I may need you later this week, if that's okay," he said softly. Kirei slowly nodded, too shocked to speak. She entered her studio and locked the door behind her.
Dastun returned to M.P.H.Q. Kissing her had been stupid, but he didn't care. He could always explain it away as part of the cover story. Whistling to himself, he decided to see what the lab boys in fingerprinting had come up with. He'd soon learn the truth of that strange quiet little woman, know some of the secrets of her pre-Roger life.
To Dastun's surprise the techs hadn't come up with much at all. According to their findings, whoever handled the glass had been wearing gloves, probably made of a very fine and expensive leather. There were absolutely no fingerprints, nothing identifiable at all.
There was something very wrong here. Maybe Kirei wasn't what she seemed to be. Maybe she was big trouble. Maybe Smith was being set up. The negotiator certainly had plenty of enemies. He had learned long ago to be wary of letting just anyone get close. He rarely misjudged people when such a mistake could cost him his life. Smith wouldn't have opened his home to her if she wasn't trustworthy, and yet...Those weapons skills she had were worthy of a good soldier, or...an assassin. The way she attracted male attention like that--she might have seduced Roger, reeling him in til she did whatever damage she was supposed to do.
The major could feel the vein in his forehead begin to throb. This was so confusing. There was something so pleasant, so disarming about the little brunette...he liked her so much! On the other hand, Smith was a long-time friend, despite their differences. Perhaps he should say something to him.
Meanwhile he could do a little digging. There was nothing in the report to indicate Kirei's identity. He would write it up as a rumor concerning possible shooters for hire, highly skilled individuals with no traceable prints, and see if one of his officers could come up with something. Now who to choose? Dastun glanced down at the new transfers' personnel files sitting on his desk. Kennedy had a background in unusual cases, didn't he? He'd give it to him. Grimacing, the major put the report in the young officer's in-box.
Kirei, meanwhile, was extremely annoyed at both the major and the negotiator. She would see this damn case through because she had given her word, but that would be the end of it. As for Roger--he meant well, but she would choose her own companions, thank you very much.
The shapeshifter went into the tiny apartment behind the shoji screen. She pulled out a double picture frame from her dresser and set it on top. It held two photos of Shinji; one in his wolf phase, the other human. He'd written on the second photo the words: "Snowy, I'll always love you," and signed it with both his name and an inked paw print.
Kirei sighed deeply. Those had been difficult times, but she had never doubted Shinji's feelings for her. She decided not to return to Roger's house tonight. She had too much thinking to do.
She pulled her cell phone out and called. Norman answered, crisp and formal as always. "Shall I tell Master Roger you're calling, Miss Snowy? He is on the other line with a client."
"No, don't bother him," replied Kirei. "If he asks for me, tell him I'm staying over at Whitewolf. I've, um, got too much work to do. Thanks, Norman."
Kirei hung up and finally let her hot tears flow. All she wanted was to be in the big bed now, with Roger sweetly caught between Dorothy and herself. She remembered the last time (it felt forever ago), how his strong arms had cuddled them both against him, how she and Dorothy had clasped their hands over his heart.
She wanted, no, she NEEDED to feel safe and wanted and loved like that. She'd had that sense of perfect belonging with her first pack. The loss had nearly killed her soul. The dreadful blow was felt again when, now alone, she tried to mingle with the citizens of Paradigm. Kirei soon learned that, shapeshifter or not, the others all shared a common thread, an assurance of something she lacked. They knew they were all human, at least in the beginning. Every shapeshifter was the result of a disease, something from outside that entered them and changed them forever.
Kirei Snowolf was...something else. Neither her tooth nor claw would infect another, for she had never been infected herself. She was as she had been bred to be. It could be taken from her, but she could never share it. The other shapeshifters felt uncomfortable around her. They sensed that she was neither beast nor human, but both. She had been born a wolf with the gift of shifting; she had been conditioned since birth to think of herself as an animal first.
As for human company--they tended to make her very nervous. Her training had not prepared her to deal with regular people in a casually social context. Fortunately her talent allowed her to carve a niche for herself. Artists were expected to be eccentric.
If it hadn't been for Dorothy, and later Roger, she couldn't imagine where she'd be right now. They both accepted her for what she was. They asked few prying questions about her past. Roger's attitude had been that "Every saint had a past, every sinner had a future." She would share when she was ready, and that had been good enough.
Kirei believed she had truly found a home again...but now it seemed she was wrong. Dorothy was avoiding her, and Roger--she growled in pained frustration.
Maybe Shinji HAD been right in the dream. If she wanted to stay put, maybe she needed to simplify life for everyone.
Roger never did get that puppy for Dorothy's birthday. She hadn't been able to make up her mind. No one had the time to train one anyway.
Maybe a pure-blooded adult wolf would do instead. At least she was already housebroken.