Master of Smoke

to David. “Can you open a gate to their house if I give you the address?”
    “Of course.” He shot a glance over his shoulder. “But let’s get inside first. We’ll gate from there.”

    Charlotte and Bill Roman owned a two-story home with beige vinyl siding and white trim in a comfortably middle-class development. The lawn was green and well tended, the better to showcase her mother’s lovingly tended azaleas, which surrounded the house in a brilliant profusion of white and pink blooms.
    David and Eva stepped through his gate into the thick spring woods that lay behind the house. She managed not to break into a run as they crossed the lawn and climbed the brick steps to the porch, but it took all the self-control she had. Stomach knotted, Eva threw David an agonized look and knocked. Heart in her throat, she listened with every bit of werewolf acuity she had.
    Footsteps. Thank God. Unless it was a werewolf ...
    Charlotte opened the door, her smile of welcome turning to a frown of concern as she took in Eva’s pale face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
    “Hi, Mom. Mind if we come in?” It was all she could do not to leap on her mother in relief.
    “Sure. This is still your home, Eva. You know that.” Charlotte opened the door wider and called, “Bill, Eva and David are here.” She looked past them as they walked in. “Dear, where’s your car?”
    “Car trouble,” David said smoothly. “We had a friend drop us over.”
    “Oh. Do you need to call a tow truck?”
    Dammit, she should have thought to bring the car, but she’d been in such a tearing hurry ...
    “No need.” David gave her mother a smile so charming, Charlotte blinked and looked just slightly dazzled. “I’ll take a look at it in the morning. I’m pretty good with engines.”
    Finally realizing the two hadn’t actually met, Eva performed the introductions as they walked into the living room, where Bill—surprise—was indeed watching a golf game. Her father shot David a narrow-eyed look that was just shy of hostile, before reluctantly rising to offer his hand.
    “What brings you two by?” Bill asked as Eva and David settled on the gold-striped love seat that stood at an angle to the couch.
    Charlotte shot him a quelling look at his cool tone. “May I get you two anything to drink?”
    “Got any wine?” At least it would give her something to do with her hands.
    “There’s a Riesling in the fridge.”
    Eva managed another smile. She had to get them out of here. Somehow. “Sounds great.”
    David looked at the bottle of Coors on the coffee table. “I’d like a beer.” He probably suspected that asking for wine would cost him masculinity points with Bill. And he was right.
    An uncomfortable silence fell as Charlotte bustled out.
    “Have you read the new Scarlet Reaper?” her father asked.
    Eva usually made a point of reading damn near everything that came into the store so she could discuss comics with her customers. “I haven’t had a chance.” I’ve been too busy trying not to get killed.
    “That new writer’s an idiot. If he retcons one more character out of existence, I’m dropping the book.” Retroactive continuity—declaring that something which had happened in a previous issue had never happened at all—irritated Bill no end.
    Silence fell again. Bill glowered at David. David gave him a polite smile in return. Eva dropped a hand on David’s knee by way of silently telling her father to dial back his disapproving daddy act.
    How the hell were they going to persuade her parents to go to Arthur’s safe house?
    “Eva and I have been talking,” David began after Charlotte had served the drinks and curled up next to her husband. “Mr. Roman, I realize I got off on the wrong foot with you the other day, and I’d like a chance to get to know you both better. A friend of mine has a beach house on the coast. It’s a private beach. Eva and I were planning an impromptu week’s vacation, and we thought we’d ask you to join us while Mrs. Roman is on spring break.”
    Bill frowned, his puzzled gaze flicking to Eva’s face. “We can’t close the shop, Eva, particularly not for a week. Not with the economy in the tank. We need every sale we can get. You know that.”
    “But it’s a nice thought,” Charlotte added hastily.
    Oh, hell, she’d known that was going to be his reaction. Maybe she could tell them just enough of the truth to get them to agree. “Thing is, we’ve got a problem. Those guys—the