Chapter Two: Wren

Wren watched her son shut the car door. “Bye, Freddy!” Her shout was poorly timed, cut off by the sound of the door slamming. She waved, trying not to seem frantic.

“Bye, Mom!” His smile and wave seemed brief, obligatory things.

She watched her little man shoulder his backpack. He turned and headed into the gym with the other kids. His dark hair was longer than she thought was flattering, but it was the way he liked it and Marisol liked “little Alfredo” with his long, straight locks.

Traffic out of the school parking lot was a beast, made worse by idiots ignoring the “No Left Turn” sign at the parking lot’s exit. Wren gritted her teeth and thought of the ways she might expedite her situation—or at least get a little payback on the idiots—using sorcery. It was an amusing way to pass the time as she waited in the very slow line of cars.

She was turning the minivan onto the on-ramp for I-35 when her phone rang. She thumbed the button on the steering wheel to answer. “Yeah, Freddie. What did you forget today?” Yesterday, he had forgotten his $10 for the trip to the museum; last week it had been his swim trunks and sunscreen.

“Congratulations! You have won two dozen roses in your choice of colors! As a valued customer--” The recorded message continued to play from the phone, via the car’s audio system. Wren’s mind, however, was occupied with flipping on her blinker and maneuvering her car into the off-ramp, leaving the highway she had just entered.

When the robo-call ended, she dialed her office. “It’s Wren,” she said to the receptionist. “I’ve got a meeting at ten-thirty with the Union-Pacific people. Please call and tell them that I need to reschedule. Let the team know I’ll probably be out until at least noon, but I’ll want updates as soon as I walk through the door. Thanks.”

The flower shop’s only other customer was leaving as Wren entered. Behind the counter was a rangy Hispanic man in a green apron. He sported a thin moustache and a nametag reading “Beto.” Her eyes met his and he nodded before turning away to tend to whatever it was that he tended to tend.

Wren walked past the flower-filled glass coolers, around the counter, and stepped through the beaded curtain into the back room. An unmarked door brought her to a corridor that ran in the space behind the stores of the strip mall. At the far end of the hallway, with its cinderblock walls and concrete floor, she found a door whose signage proclaimed “Security Center” in bright red letters and “Authorized Personnel Only.”

Adelaide McCann, Wren’s former mentor, waited, perched alertly on a folding chair, her back to the multi-display video monitors that rotated through views from the shopping center’s security cameras. She wore a stylishly floppy straw hat, a designer sun dress, and a strand of 18mm pearls that a casual observer would wrongly have assumed were fake.

Stolen story; please report.

Wren inclined her head respectfully as she greeted the older woman. “Miss Adelaide.”

Adelaide smiled. “Married life suits you, dear. Perhaps when I hand my burdens off to Blossom, I’ll settle down and see what all of the fuss is about.”

A snort forced its way out of Wren. “You? Retire? I’m not sure I’ll live to see that.”

“Hm.” Adelaide gestured to the second chair and Wren seated herself. “I may not live to see it either, Wren. Someone tried to ‘retire’ me last night.”

The younger woman leaned forward. “Details.” She listened intently as her former mentor recounted the previous evening’s attack.

Wren whistled by way of exclamation when Adelaide had finished. “A triad of Abyssal wolves, huh? That was sloppy. I’d’ve sent nine—minimum—if you were my target. Twenty-seven would have been my preferred number, given your reputation.”

Adelaide chuckled. “Three almost did the job. My collision with the dumpster addled me and I had to rely on passive healing measures before I faced them.”

“But whoever sent the triad had no way to know the crash might injure you. They should have sent more wolves.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Adelaide with a nod. “What’s your take on this?”

“I’d hate to speculate without more information. It’s too easy to wind up with biased conclusions. I would, however, like to know if you suspect anyone would especially want to have you out of the picture at this particular time.”

Wren knew Adelaide’s rueful smile well. “Oh, the usual suspects, I’m sure. Perhaps the Binders have found a way to organize, or that idiotic faction of the Brethren.”

“I thought the Triumvirs had cleansed the Brethren of their ‘unruly element’?”

Adelaide shook her head. “So did I, but recent rumor has it that some of the idiots weren’t as ‘cleansed’ as we might have hoped and have gone into hiding.”

Wren leaned back in her chair. “Great. Is that another thing I’m going to have on my plate this summer?”

“Only if they were involved in last night’s events. Let’s concentrate on that. Perhaps the Triumvirs will surprise us and finish their housekeeping.” Adelaide caught her eye and continued. “I’ve decided to keep information about last night on a tight leash. I’ve told Marci and I had to tell Amy so she could treat the young man who was injured last night—and I haven’t told Amy everything. Until we know where this attack came from, my instincts tell me to play this close to our vests.”

“I understand,” said Wren. She understood that Adelaide’s “circle of trust” was small indeed. It made sense to be wary. The attack had come on Adelaide’s home turf. Until they had more information, everyone else was suspect. It was her job to gather the information they needed to understand this situation. “Give me the details of your itinerary last night, then I’ll examine the car—it shouldn’t have been possible for you to have a blowout, not in Crue—”

Adelaide gently patted her arm. “Wren, dear, you haven’t been my apprentice for a long time—and even when you were, I seldom felt the need to micromanage. I trust you, and I trust that you know how to do your job.” With that, the older woman stood, then leaned down to kiss Wren’s forehead. “Any resources you need are yours. You have both of my priority numbers. Give me everything you uncover as you uncover it. Knowledge received too late is little better than ignorance.”