I noted a street sign and made a right turn. “We’ll park nearby and walk in.”
Bran studied my rear-view mirror. “Any signs of your adoring fans?”
“If they’re good I won’t see them.” I’d been watching since we left the house. “These two are good.”
“So are the kids we’re looking for.” He pointed at the curb. “Overnight parking available there.”
I slid into the empty space. It wasn’t hard; the nearest cars were a half block away. “It can’t be this easy to get a spot.”
“Prime area for theft. These kids aren’t usually looking for joyrides but I can’t promise they won’t consider it,” Bran said as he hopped out. “How’s your insurance on this thing?”
“Good enough. I hope.” I tucked the keys into my coat pocket and moved up beside him. The night air was cool, enough to warrant wearing the duster.
I also viewed it as possible camouflage. These two enforcers were good but now I knew they were there.
My side ached. I couldn’t beat them in a fight so I’d have to use my wits.
I could still be outmatched.
A breeze drifted over us. I instinctively raised my face and sniffed, trying to pick up what I could.
Freshly-mowed grass. Turned-over dirt. A scattering of flowers, their sweetness almost intoxicating.
Cigarettes. Sweat. Sex.
Maybe a trace of Felis. I wriggled my nose.
“Anything good?” Bran asked. He’d come to understand my Felis senses could be a blessing and a curse.
“Not sure. There’s so much going on. Best way to find out is to do it the old-fashioned way.” I waved him onward. “Let’s visit fantasyland.”
We walked along the sidewalk beside shuttered businesses until we hit a chain of willow trees, their long draping branches brushing the ground. The glossy black lacquered chain-link fence stood no more than a foot high, more of a suggestion at a barrier than an actual impediment.
The entrance started with an opening in the baby fence and a small iron plaque set in the cement announcing we could enter Don Heights here, a park dedicated to the memory of James Hilton the Third.
Whoever that was. I wondered if anyone had considered attaching a small history book to these granite blocks to inform the public who they were supposed to thank. It’d be nice to know why Mr. Hilton was worth having a whole park named after him.
The willow trees parted to show a handful of paved paths wandering in and out of small clusters of bushes with tall, lanky trees scattered throughout the football field-sized park. We followed the path to the center of the park where a small fountain sat, spewing water out the top of a thin spout to fall in a faux rain into the bottom. No statue of a little boy peeing or a horse spouting water out of his mouth—the sculptor had gone simple and plain, probably hoping to reduce the amount of graffiti and defacement public statues tended to attract.
I could smell the soap and detergent.
Bran nodded before I could speak. “Good hygiene.” He chuckled. “Kind of hard to go ask for cash when no one can stand being within a mile of you. Wear clean underwear and wash behind your ears like your momma said.”
“Good idea.” I spotted a rustling in the bushes to our left.
I didn’t react.
We weren’t going to get anywhere charging around like wild dogs at every twitch and flutter of leaves. I doubted it was either of the Felis enforcers, they wouldn’t be so obvious.
Wise hunters don’t charge at the first sign. They watch and wait and learn what they can.
Bran sat down on the brim of the fountain and yawned.
I rolled my eyes. “Not my fault. I suggested a nap.”
He laughed. “Not my fault. You’re irresistible.”
I joined him, squirming on the cool concrete edge. “Now what?” I studied the bushes and trees. “Wait for the kids to issue an invitation?”
“Maybe.” Bran turned and studied me. “You feeling okay? Not dizzy, shaky or anything?”
The concern in his voice was both wonderful and annoying. I wasn’t a frail little kit running home to Mom the first time I skinned my knee.
On the other hand, we could at any second be in the middle of a major brawl.
I drew in a deep breath, enjoying the smells of the scaled-down wilderness. It wasn’t a full forest but it was definitely a draw for any Felis in the area. “I’m good.”
Not great but good. I wasn’t going to push it.
Bran looked around, trying to orient himself. “It’s basically the same as it was a few years ago but a bit different.” He chuckled. “Now I feel like an old man.”
“Given the way you were moving a few hours ago I can testify that you are definitely not an old man.” I put my hand on the small of my back and stretched with a magnified sigh. “I might like it when you get older and slower.”
“I thought you liked it fast.” He gave a sassy wink.
I felt my cheeks burn and looked at the trees. They didn’t manage to hide the skyline but did a fine job of obscuring it. If I squinted really hard I could almost imagine being back on the farm or some other forest, away from the scents and sounds of the city.
Bran took my hand and squeezed it. “You like it here.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do.” Another deep breath brought back memories of the farm and the nearby forest. My ankle gave off phantom aches, reminding me of my first hunt.
“We should take a vacation.” Another squeeze. “Maybe up to Algonquin Park? Go do a little hiking and camping?”
“You want to go out into the wilderness with me?” I said in a low tone.
He gave a half-hearted shrug. “If you’d like to. We could even go for a run.” A pause, long enough to tickle my nerves. “On one of the trails. I could manage a light jog, I think.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “What brought this on? You know I haven’t heard from Trace. He’s given up on me.”
Trace Bryson hadn’t entered into my thoughts for a good long time. The Felis farmer had taken my rejection well and kept to his part of the bargain, leaving us alone after Bran proved himself worthy of me, in the eyes of the Felis.
It’d been my bad judgment going on a run with Trace that had prompted Brandon and I to re-evaluate our relationship.
I didn’t think it was a far stretch to say Angie’s re-appearance had brought this back to the surface.
“I just think it’d be a good idea, that’s all.” His grip on my hand tightened. “I’m willing to try to put up a tent and throw sleeping bags on the ground if it’d make you happy.”
Tears blurred my vision. “You make me happy. You don’t have to do anything, just be...you.”
He leaned in for a kiss, sloppy and heartfelt. “I try. And the offer stands if you want to get out of the city and kick your heels up, run wild for a bit.” Bran licked his lips. “But I’ll pass on eating raw meat if you catch anything. Got to put my foot down and say we cook it.”
The chuckle caught in my throat. “I’ll settle for a rare steak at the nearest restaurant instead and a late-night double feature of bad science-fiction movies curled up beside you in bed.” I squeezed his hand back. “I’m getting too old for running. I like where I am right now.”
Bran looked away, clearing his throat. He pointed at a tree off from the others, the thick trunk signaling the many years the oak tree had managed to survive. “That’s the couples tree.”
“What?”
“It’s full of branches thick enough to put a tarp between, create a sort of hammock for two people to snuggle in and be safe for a few hours. Not a whole lot of privacy and I sure wouldn’t recommend wild animal sex that high above the ground but I’d put money on your two lovebirds climbing up there at some point.”
I tried to sound casual. “And how would you know about this tree?”
His jaw tightened. “I watched the kids go up there. DJ, for example. They’d scurry up there like they were born to climb trees. Curl up like kittens all tangled ’round each other until sunrise.”