Nash said, wiping his forehead with the back of a gloved hand. “What are you doing here?”
Zoe smiled. “ I hang out here a lot, remember?” she said.
“Of course. Sorry. I’ve had a bit of a confusing day.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you, Nash. I’m sort of having a crisis of conscience,” she said.
Nash pulled his gloves off. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I’d ask you to sit down but the ground’s too cold for that,” she said. “Even shifters can get hemorrhoids.”
“Fair enough. But do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, feeling agitated. The fact that nothing in his hometown was making sense was irritating him now, rather than just frustrating him.
“The woman you saw today at Malcolm’s chalet was me,” she said. “Not Cecile.”
“What? How is that even possible? Are you some master of disguise?”
Zoe didn’t reply. Instead, she altered before his eyes, her hair going dark and sleek, her features changing rapidly and smoothly into familiar ones. It was like watching a strange hallucinogenic animation. Cecile now stood before Nash, smiling at him.
He stepped back, convinced that he’d simply lost his mind.
“I’m a shape-changer,” the woman said, her voice now sounding very much like Cecile’s. “And that includes people as well as animals.”
“Jesus,” said Nash. “I…I’ve never seen someone who could do this.”
“Most people, or even shifters, haven’t. I’m sorry that I freaked you out.” With that, Zoe became herself again.
“But why did you do that?” asked Nash. “What were you doing at her house?”
“I found out that there was to be a meeting there this morning , of a bunch of affluent businessmen. It seemed important.”
Nash remembered the men he’d seen leaving the meeting room.
“Okay,” he said, “but…”
“I thought that if I could get into the house, maybe I could get into the meeting.”
“And did you?”
“No. I only heard a little. They did talk about the protection racket, but I don’t know that any of them are directly involved. It seemed to be a big source of concern for most of them—people threatening their livelihoods. These are all businessmen who rely on tourism to stay on the upswing in the area, Nash. It wouldn’t serve them very well to shoot themselves in the foot.”
“Well, damn. That brings us back to square one, doesn’t it?”
“In a way. It doesn’t necessarily absolve Malcolm. It just means that he’s not necessarily part of the group that’s behind all this. We’re beginning to suspect that it’s a smaller organization, run by just a few shifters. The key is going to be to figure out who and how to stop them.”
“Well, that’s a bit tricky, isn’t it? We can’t just go around asking people , ‘Hey, listen, are you in the mafia? Because if you are, I’m going to have to eat your face.’”
“No, but that’s not the worst idea in the world,” laughed Zoe. “But listen : we’re having a small meeting at my place tonight.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to him. On it was a small, hand-drawn map. “You should come. It’s at seven o’clock.”
“Why at your place and not here at the pack’s cabin?”
“Because I don’t want Dascha involved. He’s a suspect, remember?”
“Right, of course. Okay, I’ll be there. In the meantime, there’s somewhere I need to be.” Nash’s mind had settled on the notion that he was in fact sane, which meant that he owed a young woman an apology.
“I’m sorry if I r uined things for you and Cecile,” said Zoe. “I really didn’t expect to see you at the house. You surprised me.”
“I know. It’s okay. I’ll see if we can work things out.”
“Good. You will. I’m sure of it.”
Nash phoned Cecile that afternoon, relieved when she answered.
“Listen,” he said, “I know you must think I’m a giant ass, but I want to explain to you what happened. I think you and I