ill-fitting dark suit emerged from the apothecary. I glanced over at Lukas. The young shape-shifter was trembling like a malaria victim.
“That’s him,” he croaked. “That’s the guard I attacked the night I escaped!”
“It’s all right, Lukas,” I said, patting his hand. “He didn’t see you. You’re safe.”
“But what is he doing here?” Despite the cool weather, sweat stood out in beads along Lukas’s brow and upper lip. I wondered, perhaps a little too late, if a panic attack could trigger shape-shifting in a bastet.
“There’s no point in getting your tail in a twist before you know if it’s a problem or not,” Hexe said, doing his best to calm the boy. “Dr. Mao’s a very good healer. I bet that croggy is simply one of his patients.”
“You could be right,” Lukas admitted. “But what are the odds of his being here, of all days?”
“Golgotham’s a very small world, I’m afraid.” Hexe sighed. “One that’s getting smaller every day.”
The interior of the apothecary shop was crowded, dimly lit, and smelled strongly of bitter herbs. One side was taken up by a long counter, behind which stood a wall full of antique cabinets, each drawer labeled in neat, Chinese script. Deer horns, still clad in their velvet, hung suspended from the dusty ceiling, along with goat horns, a narwhale tusk, and the ubiquitous stuffed crocodile.
Seated on a stool behind the counter was an elderly Asian gentleman dressed in a black silk shirt with a mandarin collar. As the bell over the shop door announced our arrival, the old man jumped to his feet with amazing speed, his head morphing into that of a tiger.
“I already told you. I don’t know anything!” he snarled.
Once he saw Hexe, the black stripes faded back into the old man’s skin and the bristling whiskers relaxed, becoming a long, drooping mustache. His gray eyebrow stretched across his forehead without a visible break.
“Forgive me, Hexe! I thought you were someone else.”
“I can see that.” Hexe smiled as the were-tiger came out from behind the counter to greet him. “You’re looking good, you old rascal.”
“The same is true of you, my friend.” Dr. Mao smiled. He turned and shouted something in Chinese over his shoulder. The set of heavy curtains that partitioned the front of the store from the back parted, revealing a teenaged Asian girl dressed in a traditional mandarin silk gown. Where her father’s unibrow was wild and bushy, hers had been waxed and tweezed into a delicate, pencil-thin line.
“Meikei! Prepare tea for our honored guest!” Dr. Mao said, briskly clapping his hands.
“Of course, Father,” the young girl replied, bowing her head. As she left the room, she peeked over her shoulder and gave Lukas a teensy smile.
“She’s beautiful.” The young were-cat had a goofy grin on his face. Little cartoon cupids flying around his head were the only thing missing.
“Play it cool, kiddo,” I whispered, giving him a quick nudge to the ribs. “You’re drooling.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Hexe took me by the elbow, steering me toward the elderly were-tiger. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought a couple of friends with me. Tate, I would like you to meet Dr. Mao.”
“Most pleased to meet you, young lady,” Dr. Mao said politely as he shook my hand. “You are human, yes? Are you a client?”
“Tate is my newest boarder,” Hexe explained.
Dr. Mao raised his unibrow in surprise. “Does your uncle know yet?”
“No, he doesn’t. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
Dr. Mao nodded his understanding. He then turned to face Lukas. “It would seem by the way this one walks that he is in need of healing. Is that not so?”
“You are correct,” Hexe replied. “Lukas—say hello to Dr. Mao.”
As Lukas moved forward to greet the healer, Dr. Mao gasped and took a step back. For a brief second the tiger stripes swam back to the surface of his skin.
“That’s him,” he croaked. “That’s the guard I attacked the night I escaped!”
“It’s all right, Lukas,” I said, patting his hand. “He didn’t see you. You’re safe.”
“But what is he doing here?” Despite the cool weather, sweat stood out in beads along Lukas’s brow and upper lip. I wondered, perhaps a little too late, if a panic attack could trigger shape-shifting in a bastet.
“There’s no point in getting your tail in a twist before you know if it’s a problem or not,” Hexe said, doing his best to calm the boy. “Dr. Mao’s a very good healer. I bet that croggy is simply one of his patients.”
“You could be right,” Lukas admitted. “But what are the odds of his being here, of all days?”
“Golgotham’s a very small world, I’m afraid.” Hexe sighed. “One that’s getting smaller every day.”
The interior of the apothecary shop was crowded, dimly lit, and smelled strongly of bitter herbs. One side was taken up by a long counter, behind which stood a wall full of antique cabinets, each drawer labeled in neat, Chinese script. Deer horns, still clad in their velvet, hung suspended from the dusty ceiling, along with goat horns, a narwhale tusk, and the ubiquitous stuffed crocodile.
Seated on a stool behind the counter was an elderly Asian gentleman dressed in a black silk shirt with a mandarin collar. As the bell over the shop door announced our arrival, the old man jumped to his feet with amazing speed, his head morphing into that of a tiger.
“I already told you. I don’t know anything!” he snarled.
Once he saw Hexe, the black stripes faded back into the old man’s skin and the bristling whiskers relaxed, becoming a long, drooping mustache. His gray eyebrow stretched across his forehead without a visible break.
“Forgive me, Hexe! I thought you were someone else.”
“I can see that.” Hexe smiled as the were-tiger came out from behind the counter to greet him. “You’re looking good, you old rascal.”
“The same is true of you, my friend.” Dr. Mao smiled. He turned and shouted something in Chinese over his shoulder. The set of heavy curtains that partitioned the front of the store from the back parted, revealing a teenaged Asian girl dressed in a traditional mandarin silk gown. Where her father’s unibrow was wild and bushy, hers had been waxed and tweezed into a delicate, pencil-thin line.
“Meikei! Prepare tea for our honored guest!” Dr. Mao said, briskly clapping his hands.
“Of course, Father,” the young girl replied, bowing her head. As she left the room, she peeked over her shoulder and gave Lukas a teensy smile.
“She’s beautiful.” The young were-cat had a goofy grin on his face. Little cartoon cupids flying around his head were the only thing missing.
“Play it cool, kiddo,” I whispered, giving him a quick nudge to the ribs. “You’re drooling.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Hexe took me by the elbow, steering me toward the elderly were-tiger. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought a couple of friends with me. Tate, I would like you to meet Dr. Mao.”
“Most pleased to meet you, young lady,” Dr. Mao said politely as he shook my hand. “You are human, yes? Are you a client?”
“Tate is my newest boarder,” Hexe explained.
Dr. Mao raised his unibrow in surprise. “Does your uncle know yet?”
“No, he doesn’t. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
Dr. Mao nodded his understanding. He then turned to face Lukas. “It would seem by the way this one walks that he is in need of healing. Is that not so?”
“You are correct,” Hexe replied. “Lukas—say hello to Dr. Mao.”
As Lukas moved forward to greet the healer, Dr. Mao gasped and took a step back. For a brief second the tiger stripes swam back to the surface of his skin.
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