"Hey Bill, how's it going?" Mary asked with a warm smile.
Everyone Mary had talked to called the guy Beardy Bill, because of his long, scruffy beard. He was a fixture on the waterfront, probably the most well-known of the Harbor's homeless. He was even featured occasionally in the local news, usually in articles about the plight of the homeless, the urban poor and the mentally ill.
There was no doubt in Mary's mind that Bill hit all the boxes. He was poor, homeless and a bit unstable. His sometimes wild rants and occasional outbursts of unpredictable rage could be frightening. Still, in Mary's opinion, he was a decent guy. She'd known worse men, who hid their violence behind expensive suits and smooth smiles.
"Mary, Mary, oh contrary," Bill replied in a sing-song voice, returning her smile with one of his own. "How does your garden grow?"
"Better now that Mandy won't let me touch it," Mary laughed. "She's pretty sure I killed a plastic flower once."
"I brought you a little something," Mary said.
"A visit from yer charmin' self is gift enough," Bill grinned. "You didn't need to trouble yer'self."
"It's just some bagels and coffee I lifted from the breakroom at work," Mary said. "It's not much, but it's something."
"Don't get yer'self in trouble for the likes of me," Bill admonished.
"Nobody's going to give me trouble over day-old bagels and bad coffee, Bill," Mary scoffed. Truthfully, Rotten Josh would probably try if he knew, but she could handle him.
"Yer a good girl, Mar," Bill said. "And yer right, this is terrible coffee."
"Shit," Etta cursed, coming to a sudden stop. "Shit, shit, shit."
"What?" Demarco asked, puzzled.
Glancing around the edge of the old shipping container, she could see Beardy Bill talking to a young woman. It was hard to make out much over the overwhelming scents of ripe trash, rust, oil and salt water from the harbor, and Beardy Bill himself, but she could just pick out a hint of the woman's scent. She smelled of something Demarco could only call strength, something that reminded her a bit of Rory.
"Who is that?" Demarco asked.
"Mariah Huntley," Etta whispered. "She's going to kill me."
"What, Mariah Huntley, the ex-gangster who married Miranda Goth?" Demarco said. "Why would she have a problem with you?"
"Oh, I don't know Lux," Etta snarled quietly, clearing missing Demarco's sarcasm. "Maybe because I magically roofied Miranda, seduced her, and helped gangsters kidnap her. Gangsters who were planning to sell her to the Dark Court? Any of that ringing a bell?"
Of course it does, Demarco thought with an inward sigh. She knew the shame and pain her partner carried over her past crimes. Crimes Etta had committed at the command of her abusive father, who had seen his daughter as nothing but a weapon in his war with the Witches' Council. She worried that Etta was still trapped by that past. That she couldn't seem to accept that she wasn't that lost teen anymore.
"Yes," Demarco admitted, trying to sound calming. Etta needed to confront her past. "But you also turned your back on those gangsters, and your father, and helped her escape. Besides, that was like four years ago. Did Miranda and Mariah even know each other then?"
"They'd been dating for a few months," Etta moaned. "Miranda actually offered to leave her for me... all because of the damn spell I put on her."
"Oh," Demarco blinked. She'd known Etta had used magic to make Miranda fall for her, but not that hard. Looking at the pain in her partner's face, she felt a small and uncomfortably familiar stab of jealousy. Had it just been a spell? Now wasn't the time to confront that. She decided it was better to go back to humor instead. "Yeah, she's definitely going to kill you."
"See," Etta sighed, still too wrapped up in her own feelings to spot the joke. "Shit. What are the odds? I mean, we knew they were hiding out in the Harbor, but what are the odds she'd know Beardy Bill?"
"Everyone knows Beardy Bill," Demarco pointed out.
"You doing OK out here, Bill?" Mary asked carefully. It was always a balancing act, she knew from experience, to offer help to a guy like Bill.
"I got everything I need, Mar," Bill said confidently.
"You sure? I know it's been getting cold at night," Mary pressed. The summer's intense heat was a distant memory now. Mary had woken this morning to see frost on the windows, and she'd thought about Bill.
"Not my first autumn, kid," Bill grinned. "I know how to take care of myself."
"You know, if it gets bad there are shelters," Mary suggested, trying to sound casual.
"Phfa," Bill snorted, amused. "Damn Jacoban preachers and their God-talk. I'd rather be cold."
Mary wanted to argue. Instead, she found herself remembering another time and place, a homeless teen runaway and a Jacoban missionary who would come by once a week to rant about sin and an angry God before offering her enough money to buy some food in exchange for a blowjob behind the dumpsters. Long practice kept the memory off her face, while Mary acknowledged it and put it away, reminding herself that she wasn't that lost teen anymore.
"Ok, I can respect that," Mary said, that same practice keeping her voice steady. "Just take care of yourself."
"Always have, always will," Bill smiled. "Don't worry 'bout me, Mar. I got folk who look after me... like you and like Lilah and her family. Folk who look after each other. I ain't alone."
"Good," Mary said. That lost teen runaway named Mariah had been alone, had refused to not be alone. She wouldn't let this strange, mad old man be. I'll bring him some blankets next time, she told herself. "I've got to run... got to catch the bus and get home before Mandy sends out a search party."
"Say hi for me," Bill said.
"I will," Mary smiled. "I hope the bagels aren't too stale."
"No worries, I got sharp teeth," Bill grinned.
"Evening Bill," Demarco said. She'd waited until Mariah Huntley was well out of earshot before she'd approached, making sure to make a little noise so she didn't startle Beardy Bill. It wasn't a good idea to startle someone like Bill.
"The remarkable Demarco," Beardy Bill smiled. "Lady Blackwood," he added with a nod to Etta that was completely, respectfully sincere.
"Bill," Etta nodded back courteously.
"I wondered when you were going to show yourselves," he continued. "Have a bagel."
Demarco almost refused, but stopped herself even before Etta's warning glance. Beardy Bill might look like a crazy homeless guy. He was actually a crazy homeless guy, but he was also a Wolf and the leader of the Evergreen pack. As a Wildfang, her actions reflected on her own pack, and on the Moonwood, and that meant she had to respect the ancient customs of the Wolves. When a pack leader offered you food, you did not refuse.
Hospitality was one of the oldest and strongest of the ancient customs. An offer of food by a pack leader meant more than just a snack. It was a gesture of respect, an invitation to share what the pack had - food, shelter, and above all safety. In essence, Hospitality, once offered and accepted, meant the guest became a temporary member of the host's pack. Even members of rival packs respected those rules, setting their conflicts aside for as long as they were guest and host.
To refuse an offer of Hospitality, on the other hand, was seen as deliberately leaving the possibility of conflict open. It was as good as spitting in a guy's face while insulting his mother.
According to Etta, even witches and vampires honored the custom of Hospitality, each in their own ways. Since most vampires couldn't handle solid food, Demarco hadn't had the guts to ask Etta what - or who - vampires offered their guests. The options she imagined weren't good ones. She was almost glad the near-constant conflict between vampires and werewolves meant that she wasn't likely to be offered a glass of AB negative anytime soon.
She'd take stale bagels any day.
"So, that's the situation," Demarco concluded. Ancient customs respected and bagels eaten, she had launched into explaining why they'd come to see Bill. The older Wolf had listened seriously, nodding to show he understood, but otherwise letting her finish her story without interrupting.
"Since you're pretty tuned into what happens on the waterfront, I was hoping you might have heard something," she added. "If only who's using the old waterfront offices these days."
"Well, I can't say I know much of what ol' Cletus is up to," Beardy Bill mused. "He keeps his distance from us, and we keep our distance from him. This is the first I've heard of him being up on the mountain making trouble. Might be we oughta keep a closer eye on him."
"We don't want to make trouble for your people," Demarco said diplomatically, while inwardly allowing herself a little cheer at the idea of getting help from the Evergreen pack.
"Sounds like it's ol' Cletus making trouble," Bill replied. Demarco could see a glint in his eye that made her wonder, not for the first time, if older Wolves could read minds. She sure couldn't.
"As for the waterfront offices," Bill continued. "That would be the Evergreen Development Corporation."
"The shoestring land development thing Bess Stirling was starting up?" Demarco blinked.
"Shoestring no more," Bill grinned. "She's gone and got both shoes now. Got a bunch of other local firms working together and I hear they've got some big investors."
"Have you heard anything about these investors?" Etta asked, pouncing on the possible lead like Rory on a rabbit.
"Strangely enough, I don't get invited to their business meetings," Bill replied. "Unless maybe I missed an email. I could check my spam folder."
"Still, you really wanna know what's going on inside Evergreen Development, you might look up yer friend Knox," Bill continued. "Him and them Hug the Trees folks were out picketing their offices a while back. If I remember right, they even said they were heading down to the Old City to protest at some big bank. Of course, he might feel up to talkin' 'bout it."
"Why not?" Demarco asked. She'd never known Knox Greenburg to turn down a chance to talk at length about his latest cause.
"Oh, you ain't heard," Bill said sadly. "Knox had a girl he was seein' ... another of them tree hugger folks."
"Way to go, Knox," Demarco said with a grin. A moment later the look on Beardy Bill's face took the smile from hers and knocked the air from her lungs even before he spoke.
"She got killed," Bill said gently. "Way I heard it, it was a mugging gone bad."
"Oh God," Demarco breathed.
"Yeah, poor Knox and poor Princess Charm," Bill shook his head.
"Princess Charm?" Etta asked, and Demarco caught something sharp rise in her partner's scent. Something that she knew in her bones meant trouble.
"That was his lady's name," Bill said. "Charm. Sherry... no, that's not it."
"Shannon," Etta supplied.
"That's it. Shannon Charm," Bill nodded, his bright eyes fixed on Etta's. He didn't ask how or why she knew that name. Even Hospitality had limits, and Bill wasn't one to pry into someone else's secrets.
Demarco felt no such limitations. "What?" she asked.
"I'll tell you on the way," Etta replied. "We need to talk to Knox. Thanks Bill."
Demarco knew her well enough to guess that her partner wasn't trying to hide something from Bill. No, Demarco thought, she had the distant but intense expression that said she was looking at something far away, something neither of the Wolves could see.
Before she could even try to explain to Bill, the old Wolf simply nodded.
"No problem," he said. "Good hunting, sisters."
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