The Sound and the Furry Page 7

  "You can't let him talk to you like that, Mom," I said.

  "He doesn't mean it, Torrance. It's just his way."

  It was how he’d been trained. He was a male Were and could do no wrong.

  Yet I’d never heard my father talk rudely to my mother. His tone had never been sneering or snide. Granted, he might have set up households in Houston and Dallas, which to me was just about as disrespectful as you could get, but he’d never overtly treated my mother with disdain.

  I mentally vowed to say something to my father. If Austin was allowed to get away with his behavior now it would only get worse. It was one thing to sneer at me, but my mother didn't deserve it.

  I knew better than to argue the point with Mom. She didn’t see anything wrong with any of us.

  I brought up another subject.

  "I know Doreen is your friend," I began. "You know Michael has petitioned the Council for divorce."

  She nodded, stretching out her hand to cover mine.

  "Poor dear. It was only a matter of time. She wasn't the best wife she could have been, Torrance."

  Her words surprised me. I’d rarely heard my mother being critical of anyone.

  “She came to the Council meeting last night,” I continued.

  Mom looked surprised. Had my father never told her about any Council business?

  I was probably violating every sort of Council rule. In all honesty, I hadn't read the entire manual, five hundred pages written like Roberts Rules of Order, about as bone dry, and filled with parliamentarian language. I was prepared to throw myself on the mercy of the Council if they called me on it. Maybe I'd even use the I didn't know excuse. My father would probably just say that ignorance of the law was no excuse, Torrance.

  That quote had never made sense to me. Why wasn’t ignorance a valid defense?

  I returned to the subject of Doreen.

  “She doesn't want the Council to approve the divorce. She called me twelve times today to make sure that I was going to do something to help her."

  "She did?"

  "Where's my tea?" my brother yelled.

  We glanced in the direction of the family dining room.

  "Oh dear, look at me. I forgot all about his tea. I just saw you and it flew right out of my mind.”

  My mother started to get up. I stood and pushed her back down in her chair, a little disturbed when her shoulder felt so frail and bony. Weres live longer than humans, a thought that brought me very little reassurance at the moment. I didn't want my mother to grow older. I didn’t want her to fade away.

  "His legs aren’t broken,” I said before turning toward the family dining room. "Get it yourself, Austin.” I said, making sure my voice was loud enough to carry.

  I glanced at Caroline. "Don't you get it, either," I said.

  "What's gotten into you?” Austin said from the doorway.

  "Oh, look, he can stand up by himself. He can walk by himself. Just a little bit farther, Austin and you might hit the refrigerator."

  "You've turned into a snide bitch,” he said.

  I was very conscious of my mother looking at both of us. I could almost hear her lectures on comportment, on family. I wanted, I really did, to tell Austin what I thought of him and how he treated women, but I didn’t open my mouth. It wasn’t fear or even Were etiquette. I loved my mother and didn’t want to upset her.

  I went to the refrigerator, grabbed the pitcher of tea and moved to the cupboard where the glasses were stored. I poured the tea in the glass and held it out to Austin.

  "I like ice in mine,” he said, smiling lightly.

  I moved to the door of the refrigerator and put a little ice in the glass, holding it out to him again.

  "There you are, brother dear," I said, smiling with some determination.

  "Nice to see that you haven't forgotten your place."

  Right now I wished I’d developed some Pranic powers like the ability to singe someone just by looking at him. I would've bored twin holes in my brother. Instead, I smiled again and watched as he returned to the table.

  "I do wish you two got on better," my mother said.

  Now was not the time for me to go into Austin's treatment of women or his bone deep misogyny. My mother would probably refuse to admit it or choose not to see it.

  My brother’s behavior was partly hereditary, partly brought on by peer pressure, and the rest of it was due to the culture in which we lived. He was expected to act like a savage and he did.

  “Is he staying here now?" I asked.

  Mom looked toward the family dining room before answering. “Your father was able to convince him to go to law school.”

  I bet. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of financial incentive he’d used as a persuasion tool.

  "Here? In San Antonio?"

  She shook her head lightly. I almost did a dance.

  “No, UT.”

  Glory hallelujah. That meant he’d be eighty miles away except for the summer.

  For the last few years, however, Austin had used the summer months to go off with a friend to explore the world, trips furnished by my father, of course. A strange thought occurred to me. Had Austin ever met any of the other families?

  I wasn't going to ask him.

  I hoped my father would do something about Austin’s attitude. He was just about the only person my brother listened to and that was more because of the purse strings than any deep respect. I wasn’t certain if Austin genuinely respected anyone.

  He had a great many friends, most of whom seemed to be of his ilk, living it up and treating women like they were disposable commodities. Because his group of friends were handsome, wealthy, and looked to have a promising future, more than one woman tolerated their treatment.

  I didn't know what offended me more, my brother’s noblesse oblige attitude or the fact that too many female Weres sacrificed their dignity to be with him.

  His latest conquest, according to my mother, was a girl from a second tier clan family. She was attending either nursing school or medical school, but I didn’t remember which.

  I decided to return to the subject of Doreen. “Is there anything you can say to her, Mom? She’s got to stop calling me.”

  She shook her head. "Doreen isn’t listening to anybody right now, I'm afraid. Any of us could've told her that it was only a matter of time until Michael finally tired of her actions. You don't treat a man like that and expect him to tolerate it."

  I was so tempted, right at that moment, to ask her about my father's other families. Was that why she’d never behaved like Doreen? Because she didn't want to lose my father? At what point does a woman say enough?

  "The people at the clinic are beginning to think something is odd."

  "She's distraught. She doesn't know what else to do. You're the only chance she has. You can understand why she might reach out to you. Evidently, Doreen thinks I have some influence over you. That stopped when you were twelve.”

  I sincerely didn't want to get into a Martha Stewart For Motherhood moment.

  My mother patted my hand. I knew that gesture. It was mother code for, “Don't worry dear, everything will work out just fine.”

  I wasn't entirely certain it would. God help me if Doreen found out that I’d voted against her which I had every intention of doing. If she was annoying now, what would she do then? It was too much to hope that she would fade into the sunset. Unfortunately, people like Doreen didn't fade.

  Neither of us mentioned the fact that Doreen would be topic number one in the gossip hotline for a while after the divorce. We’re a closed society, but we were also very judgmental.

  I talked to my mother for a little while longer, the topics varied. Who had attended her last dinner, what Sandy was doing in New York, her plans for a new hairstyle, and what I was going to do for my birthday. Since I tended to ignore birthdays I begged off any kind of celebration, to her disappointment. My mother loved to party.

  A half hour later I stood and kissed her on the c
heek.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?” she asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  I said goodbye, went outside to the drive, and waited.

  Chapter Ten

  I was a horror?

  I planted my derriere against Austin's car. Just for good measure, I bumped against the door two or three times, knowing that it would trigger one of the fancy silent alarms that my brother had on his keychain.

  Confronting my brother wasn’t the wisest thing I could have done. I knew that nothing would come from it, but I was more than annoyed at Austin. I was angry. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last time, but I was also aware of something else. I was tired of him. I was heartily tired of all of the misogyny going on in my clan.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  Oh, look, I hadn't misjudged his affection for his car. I think he liked the car more than the women in his family. In fact, it was a pretty good bet.

  “Get away from my car. Do you know how much that cost?"

  "No, but I'm sure our father does."

  I crossed my arms and waited for him to approach me. If he laid a hand on me, I was going to do the monster Were trick and toss him over the car. Of course, my mother wouldn’t approve. Nor would dear old dad. But Austin deserved to be thrown onto his keister.

  "Stop treating Mom like she's your personal slave, Austin."

  "What's gotten into you, Torrance? Father gives you a pity seat on the Council and suddenly you’re the arbiter of all that’s right and good?"

  I sincerely wanted to wipe that sneer off his face. I kept my arms folded just in case my violent impulses took root.

  "She's not your maid, so stop it."

  He took a few more steps toward me, leaned down and said, “Who's going to stop me, Torrance? You? You might be on the Council, sister dear, but you're still only a female."

  I swear, I came this close to bopping him. One fist to the nose was all it would've taken. Austin would have a slightly altered face and I would feel a great deal better.

  But there was Mom to consider. Despite everything, he was still her fair hair boy.

  “She deserves better from you, Austin.”

  I was talking to a wall.

  He folded his arms and stared at me like I was a bug beneath his shoe. I’d gotten that look from Austin before, but there was something different in his expression now. Contempt? His next comment answered that question.

  “I talked to Craig,” he said.

  The icy feeling in my stomach made me sick. Craig knew about the transfusion. The only reason the story hadn’t spread was because he’d been banished. No one would pay attention to any of his comments, chalking it up to sour grapes or a vendetta against the Boyd family.

  His brothers knew as well, but they were too afraid of my father to say anything. Besides, Joey, Craig’s brother, had a healthy respect for me. I’d held him up by his throat, legs dangling, a few months ago.

  I suspected, however, that Austin would believe anything Craig said. Austin had always looked up to Craig as a role model, a man who’d challenged his own father for dominance and replaced him as alpha. If Austin had thoughts of trying that with our father, he had a surprise coming. Hamish Boyd was more than a match for his son.

  “You’re an aberration, Torrance. You’re a horror. You’ve not only shamed yourself, but you’ve brought dishonor down on our family.”

  Craig had had his last shot at me, hadn’t he? One last gasp before leaving for the frozen north. By telling my brother about the transfusion he’d made my situation difficult.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, lying straight faced.

  Now was not the time to tell my family the truth. It was one thing for my father to know, but I had no intention of telling my mother or Sandy anything yet.

  “Since when are you so concerned about honor?” I asked.

  “Since you evidently don’t care about it. Instead, you want to be some sort of bastard Were, something that should be put down.”

  As I stood staring at him I realized that he honestly felt that way.

  I was so occupied with how I was feeling that I didn’t notice what was happening at first. The air was doing that wavering, watery thing and my vision of my brother changed. Instead of the dark blue sky heralding evening, Austin was framed in black, almost as if he’d been outlined with a Sharpie pen.

  Suddenly, I got that same creepy feeling I’d had in Kerrville. Something was wrong. I took two steps to the side, putting some distance between Austin and me.

  The hallucination changed, giving me an impression of a child’s watercolor painting. Another color was washing out Austin’s image, obliterating the black outline. All I could see was crimson, before that, too, vanished leaving me blinking at my brother.

  I continued to back away. I’d never felt afraid of Austin before, but I was now.

  Austin might be my brother, but as I stared at him, I realized that he felt nothing for me. His expression revealed that he didn’t care if I lived or died. His contempt was palpable, hanging in the air between us. I was a horror? Yep, that’s exactly what he thought.

  I turned and headed for my car, feeling his gaze on me and wishing my father had sent my brother to Saskatchewan along with Craig.

  Chapter Eleven

  My libido was singing an aria

  The night was warm, but there was a gentle honeysuckle scented breeze wafting through the windows.

  I was sitting in the TV room with the Brood.

  My grandmother had taken one of the downstairs parlors and had an electrician add about ten outlets. She was a woman way before her time and I think she would've thoroughly enjoyed the big-screen TV I had Simon mount on the opposite wall from the couch.

  The fireplace, a behemoth in white brick with an ornate white mantel, would make the room cozy in the winter. For now the air conditioning was riffling the feathery hairs on Pepper’s ears.

  I probably needed to get an architectural expert in here to tell me about a few of Graystone’s features. I had a feeling that some of this stuff deserved a great deal more attention than I was giving it.

  I also needed to hire a maid service or one person who could come in and clean the house on a daily basis. I was just so private that I disliked the idea of anybody seeing my bathroom or my closet or even being in my house. Besides, the habits of a lifetime were difficult to break. Not the ones that made me messy, but the ones that said never divulge, by word or deed, what you are.

  I didn't know any Weres who owned a maid service. If I had, I would've hired one of them immediately. Hiring a civilian was just too dangerous. I didn't go around leaving fur everywhere, but there were little things that would have given me away. Like the minutes I’d been given from previous Council meetings. If somebody happened on those and read them, they’d figure out pretty soon that we weren't a human organization. And there was the Waxinine prescription in my medicine cabinet and the lunar calendar on my refrigerator.

  No, it was better if I just went through the house one day a month and dusted as much as I could and vacuumed to the eternal joy of the Brood, all of whom had decided that the vacuum was a monster to be barked at, chased, and otherwise conquered.

  Except for my thoughts, I would have been at peace. I had the Brood with me. I’d put in a good day’s work and felt proud of my accomplishments. I was pleasantly tired, but still too agitated from my encounter with my brother to relax completely.

  I had several things I needed to resolve.

  My hallucinations.

  My brother.

  Mark.

  Doreen.

  My abilities, such as they were, which led me right back to Mark.

  Why couldn’t I do anything that he could? Was it because he was an alpha male? That was hardly fair. I could kick like a mule and I’d done okay with the monster Were I’d encountered in Kerrville. I could still feel his hairy ankles in my grip. Eww. I didn’t want to relive tha
t memory, thanks.

  What was happening to me? Should I go to my doctor? The Were community had their own doctors, men like Mark who treated both Weres and civilians. Maybe I should call Mark and make an appointment to be seen. Was he taking private patients?

  Or maybe I should just go and see the man who’d treated me since I was a baby, Dr. Montrose. I’d need to tell him about the transfusion, which would just open up a can of worms. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but I didn’t want to have to sit through a lecture.

  I was afraid of what was happening to me either psychologically or neurologically, annoyed at Mark, irritated at Doreen, angry about Austin and — coupled with all the other pent-up feelings I could normally blow off but hadn’t been able to — I felt like an emotional tornado.

  Dalton and Cherry Pip were at my feet, both of them asleep. Pepper snored loudly in my lap. I wish I could say that the sound helped me calm down. It didn’t.

  I still couldn’t get over the fact that something was happening that I needed to understand. I thought about calling Marcie and telling her that something was going terribly wrong. I was seeing things that weren't there. But that wasn't bad enough. I was only seeing things that weren’t there occasionally.

  Here, Torrance, here's a few intermittent hallucinations. Just when you thought you were losing it, you go back to normal, and then you lose it again. Confused yet?

  Tonight's hallucination had been as spooky as the one in Kerrville. I’d been afraid both times. Was that the key? Whenever I was afraid I saw things? But I hadn’t been afraid when I saw the lady on the path. Instead, I’d been determined to get home. The woman I’d encountered had been kind and sweet, unlike her daughter. Her daughter had been jealous of the attention her mother had given me.

  Green with envy.

  I stared at the TV without seeing it.

  Holy howl at the moon. Maybe I wasn't hallucinating after all. Maybe what I was seeing was what people were like down deep, the true natures they kept hidden from others.