In the Werewolf's Den Read Free Page B

when they'd been sent into the zone. But Harriman was different. He was a late arrival. His timely surrender to the authorities had protected his property. Even with what he'd spent on lawyers, he still had plenty of money in his bank account.
    "All right.” She pulled out her palmtop and punched in Carl's specifications. “There's a restaurant on Turtle Creek,” she told him. “It looks pretty close. We'll go there first."
    "You've got a date."
    Danielle shuddered. She might have to work with him but she didn't have to like him. “I'll wait in the lobby, Were ."
* * * *
    "Afternoon, Fred.” Carl greeted the maitre d’ at the Old Main Grill as if they were old friends. Well, maybe they were. The restaurant was the type that appealed to rich businessmen. Like Carl had been.
    "Six months of prison slop would make cold oatmeal taste like a gourmet treat. I can hardly wait to taste your Tex-French cooking.
    "I'm sorry, sir. We don't have any free seating."
    Carl frowned. “It's me, Fred. Dr. Harriman.” He looked around at the nearly deserted restaurant.
    Danielle checked her palmtop. “I made reservations for one. Confirmation number seven zero—"
    "I'm terribly sorry sir, ma'am” Fred broke in. “Our computer system must have suffered from a glitch. We won't be able to seat you today."
    "Dr. Harriman is legally accompanied by a registered warder,” Danielle said. “Under city ordinance two-C-seven, you are not allowed to discriminate against impaired if so accompanied."
    "I'm sorry, ma'am. I simply don't have the seating."
    It was a lie, of course. But no policeman would enforce that ordinance.
    She shoved herself in the Maitre d's face and grasped his starch-impregnated shirt. “You'll damn-well find a seat for my ward or I'll toss some of your customers and make room."
    "I'd better get the manager.” Fred fled from her, leaving shirt buttons popping behind him.
    "Let's get out of here,” Carl said.
    A couple, the man in his fifties, his date in her early twenties, walked into the restaurant and stopped suddenly when they saw Carl.
    "Guess they aren't being as exclusive as they used to be. Imagine trying to bring one of them to a place like this."
    Carl turned on his heels and strode out.
    Danielle walked after him. She couldn't really blame the restaurant management or the customers. If her work didn't require her to spend time with the impaired, she'd feel a little queasy about sharing a restaurant with one, too. Especially a restaurant whose entrees started at more than a warder's weekly salary. The funny thing was Carl's surprise. He'd have to have been sleeping over the past decade not to be aware that the impaired were unwelcome anywhere outside of their zone.
    "Perhaps we would be more comfortable if we went to the zone first, where they're used to dealing with the impaired."
    Carl looked at his hands. “It's strange, but I don't feel impaired. I feel like I always did, except I have a capability now. I'm quicker, more aware of scents and sounds. And tastes, which was why I was looking forward to a well-cooked meal."
    "The onset of magic is a legal impairment,” Danielle reminded him. “Impaired individuals have limited self-control and need to be properly restrained. It's serious, all right."
    "Let's stop by a super-store,” Carl suggested. “I'll pick up some steaks and grill them myself. And I've got to get some clothes that don't make it obvious that I'm, uh, different."
    Danielle shook her head. “Under Public Law 1627, it is unlawful to attempt to disguise your condition. Tell you what. Let's decide what you need and I'll order it on my computer. It'll be at your new lab by the time you get there."
    If she'd needed the reminder of Carl's condition, his snarl gave it to her. “I've devoted the past ten years of my life looking for a cure, a way to bring life back to nature and away from the bizarrely supernatural. And for that, I've got to walk around with the sign of the beast on me. It