Men of the Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong Page A

tree. He pretended to study it. “My father thinks you should stay in New York with him for a while. You and Clayton.”
    “No.”
    “Don't be—”
    “I appreciate the concern, but Clayton's not ready for that yet, the new surroundings, the new people. We'll be fine here.”
    Antonio threw down the stick. “You have to introduce him to the Pack eventually. Why not now?”
    “I don't want to rush him.”
    “You're stubborn.”
    “No, I'm realistic.”
    “Stubborn.”
    “Up you get, Clayton,” Jeremy said, lifting me under the armpits. “It's getting cold and I imagine you're hungry.”
    Antonio muttered something under his breath, but followed us into the house in silence, probably afraid Jeremy would withhold the food if he continued arguing.

Campaign
    That night, after Antonio left, Jeremy and I were in the study, where we spent most of our evenings. I lay on the carpet before the fire, eyes half closed, content to doze and daydream. Jeremy was poring over some ragged book that stank of time and poor storage. On top of the book he kept a notepad, and wrote in it as he read, his eyes never leaving the page.
    I know now that Jeremy was working, though at the time I just thought he spent a lot of time reading. To be honest, I wasn't even clear on the reading part, not remembering having seen anyone in my family partake of that pastime. Now I realize that much of that reading time was actually work. Jeremy made his living translating, mainly for academics. It wasn't going to make him rich anytime soon, but it kept the bills paid, and it was something he could do from home, which suited him better than any office job.
    We'd been in the study for about an hour when the door swung open. I smelled Malcolm and kept my eyes shut, hoping he'd see we were both very busy and go away.
    “Christ,” Malcolm said, footsteps thudding into the room. “He's like a goddamned puppy, curled up at his master's feet.”
    I lifted one eyelid just in time to see Malcolm take a swipe atme with his foot. His aim went wide, coming nowhere near me, but I growled to let him know I'd seen.
    “Don't growl at me, you little—”
    “Then don't antagonize him,” Jeremy said, still reading. “Leave him alone, and he'll leave you alone.”
    “He'd damned well better leave me—”
    “What did you want?”
    “I need money.”
    Jeremy's expression didn't change. Nor did he glance up from his book. “I've had some unexpected expenses with Clayton. I can spare a few hundred now, but if you'll be gone for a while, I can wire you more when I get paid.”
    “I'm not going anywhere.”
    At that, Jeremy stopped reading. The barest reaction flitted across his face, but vanished before Malcolm could seize on it.
    “I see,” Jeremy said slowly, laying his book on the side table. “What happened this time?”
    “Don't take that tone with me.”
    “I wasn't taking any tone. If there's another… problem, I need to know about it, don't I?”
    Malcolm thumped onto the couch, sprawling across it, a clear invasion of our territory. I squelched a growl, and settled for inching closer to Jeremy.
    “Just a dispute with a mutt,” Malcolm said. “A disagreement over a lady. Not that I'd expect you to know anything about that. You'd have to leave the house to get—”
    “You do more than enough for the two of us.”
    Jeremy pulled out his wallet, took some bills and handed them to Malcolm.
    “Eighty bucks?” Malcolm said. “How the hell am I supposed to live—?”
    “That's all I have. If you're staying, then you don't need more.Things are tight this month. I'll be lucky if I can pay the electric bill.”
    “The trials and tribulations of home ownership.”
    Malcolm slid a crocodile grin Jeremy's way, then stuffed the money into his pocket and left.
    So we were stuck with Malcolm.
    Long before I'd arrived at Stonehaven, Malcolm and Jeremy had perfected the art of living together without actually living together. Despite what I'd thought on my