“How’s that?” asked Mick.
“I was not always as you see. I have known loss. Once I was a merchant, and my business took me often to the seaport, nearly a full league away from my home, my wife and child. I was not there when our city—our home—was invaded by foreigners from across the hills. By the time we even realized the city was under attack, they were already dead.
“I was crazed with grief. But I was no warrior. The path I chose was not one of honor, but of revenge. I made a bargain for the power to destroy those who had taken my family, and in exchange I was bound to the Eye ever after.”
~*~
“Hurricane Roy has picked up speed yet again. Meteorologists are predicting landfall in as little as four hours. Freeways are clogged as citizens try to evacuate ahead of this category four storm that threatens the Crescent City. With Katrina not long in our memories, panic is setting in as more and more locals head for the high ground to wait out the storm. Local officials speculate about the strength of the new levee—”
Sophie turned off the car and stared at the sign above the shop.
“OCC?” she asked. “Really?”
“Not that OCC. Olaf’s Custom Cycles.” If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Mick would’ve laughed at the expression of disbelief on Sophie’s face.
“Your forger makes motorcycles?”
“Among many other things. There’s a market for them down here.”
“Doesn’t look very open.”
“He’s here.” Mick pointed at the wisps of smoke curling up from the back of the building. “And he’s at his forge. That’s exactly what we want.”
He got out of the car and headed for the side door rather than the boarded glass of the showroom. It took five minutes of pounding before a light came on above their heads and a small panel, like something from an old speakeasy, slid back, low enough that Mick was glad he was still using Sophie’s coat to cover himself. The panel slid shut with a snap, and there was a rattle of chains and locks on the other side. Then the door swung open to reveal Olaf, who stood all of four foot seven inches, looking up at him with one pierced eyebrow arched.
“Havin’ that kinda night, are we? Do I wanna know?”
“No,” Mick told him.
Olaf nodded and waved them in.
The front workroom was full of steel with several motorcycles, in various stages of completion, scattered on low work tables. The back wall held a neatly arranged tool collection that would surpass any grease monkey’s best wet dream. The dwarf was nothing if not meticulous in all his work.
He bypassed all the in-progress projects and pushed open the swinging door to the showroom. “Grab some pants from out front, then we’ll talk about what you’re doing here. I’ll add them to your tab.”
When Mick came back a few minutes later clad in leather pants and a motocross T-shirt, Sophie was crouched down, studying the workmanship on a custom tank painted to look like a valkyrie’s streaming hair. Olaf stood behind a few paces admiring her backside.
The growl of possession was instant, a low rumble that had both of them looking his way. Mick knew his eyes were flashing gold as his wolf pushed toward the surface, but he couldn’t do anything about that at the moment. It was taking everything he had not to leap across the room and slam Olaf into that pretty wall of tools.
The dwarf glanced at Sophie, then back at Mick, and opened his mouth in a silent, ah, lip ring flashing in the fluorescent lights. He lifted his hands in a gesture of placation and the wolf settled back down.
So not the time or place for this, my friend, Mick told it. Neither was this the time or place to analyze why he was reacting like a mated male. He’d deal with it when they survived this shit.
“We have a job for you,” said Mick.
Olaf crossed burly arms across his chest. “I’m guessin’ it’s not of the transportation variety.”
Mick shook his head.
“For the Underground then.”
Mick glanced at Sophie, but other than a slightly arched brow, she made no comment. “Not exactly. The less you know about the why and the who, the better.”
“This gonna come back to bite me in the ass, Guidry?”
“If you do your usual quality job, then no.”
“Fine. Let’s have it then. What am I forging?”