WereWoman (8 page)

“Unless Standish changed his mind about the project, infuriating him.”

“Standish didn't change his mind. He was intrigued, and Burket was paying extremely well. I didn't know what the project was, but I knew he was committed.”

“Still—”

“Phil, I
know
the Goblin didn't do it.”

“How—”

“I seduced him. I read his magic when we connected, same as I did with you. Goblins can be mean as hell, by no coincidence, but he was innocent of any desire to hurt Standish or torpedo the project.”

“You seduced the Goblin,” I echoed, hurt.

“Oh, don't be that way, Phil. That was months before I met you. I'm a Witch. Seduction is part of my nature. I didn't give him love, just artful sex. It was part of our due diligence before Standish accepted the project. We had to be sure Burket was legitimate.”

It did make sense. “Sorry. My love is still new. I'm foolishly possessive.”

“Of course you are,” she agreed fondly. “I apologize for inadvertently teasing you. Possess me.”

“I don't—”

She kissed me and guided me to the bed. I knew she was mainly trying to abate my mood and dissipate my spot jealousy, but such was her expertise that I was helpless to resist. In five minutes I no longer cared who else she might have seduced; I was in sexual heaven.

“Still, I should interview the Goblin,” I said

“You will. After we clear it with Goblin HQ. Today we must tackle the siblings, who are also innocent.”

“How can we nab the murderer if every suspect is innocent?”

“That's why I hired you, remember? I couldn't figure it out, but you surely can.”

Oh, joy! I would have to find a way.

We drove to the siblings' residence. It was a conservative single story cottage beside a small lake, not the kind of place you would ever expect to find a Witch or Warlock. Because they had to be of that Clan; Standish would not trust his secret of gayness outside the Clan, and really not much within it either.

“Not so,” Nonce said, picking up on my thought, as she could do now because of our physical and emotional proximity. “Delle is a Witch, Donald a straight human. Standish acted to facilitate her acceptance by the Coven, and she is duly appreciative. So is Donald; he honors our conventions because of her. He is completely trustworthy, a rare human who knows about Supes. And as it happens, he found another way to relate to Standish. They keep each other's secrets.”

It hadn't occurred to me that siblings could differ in the Supernatural respect, but of course they could and usually would; Supes occurred seemingly randomly.

Nonce knocked on the door. It was opened by a young woman. “I am Nonce Witch, Standish's cousin and friend. I have hired the private investigator Phil Were to look into his murder.”

The woman hesitated visibly, then invited us in. I knew it was because she didn't want to have anything this potentially messy spread about the neighborhood. “Standish spoke of you, Nonce. He trusted you.”

“Yes. We were very close. I knew his nature. I have shared it with Phil because it may relate to his death. Phil will not tell.”

Delle nodded uncertainly. Obviously she was not comfortable with the sharing of her status or her brother's. I couldn't blame her.

“You are all suspects in the Warlock's death,” I said when we were settled inside. “Being those closest to him. I do not mean to insult you; I am similarly suspect in the death of my closest friend. Our purpose here is to clarify your status. Nonce is sure you are innocent, but I have my own ways.”

“I thought he committed suicide,” Donald said. He was a handsome man of indeterminate age; I could appreciate how a gay man might like him. “It was an ugly shock, because I never dreamed he was depressive.”

“He wasn't,” I said. “He was murdered, probably by another Supe, and framed as a suicide. I am certain it had nothing to do with you.”

“That's almost a relief,” Donald said. “He and I were close.”

“Yes. I'm sure you grieve for him as I do for my close friend.” I glanced at Delle and made a snap decision to trust her and her brother. They had been trusted with the Warlock's secret and not betrayed it; that reassured me. “I will ask you for two things. The first is to do a Witchly enchantment in my presence. The second is to keep my secret.”

“Secret?” Delle asked.

“Secret?” Donald echoed.

“In addition to my Were nature, I have the ability to fathom a Supe's Name and inner nature when he or she performs magic in my presence. If news of that got out, it would damage my ability to perform as an investigator.”

“But then doing magic in your presence would be like stripping naked before a stranger,” Delle protested.

“You don't want to strip before a man?”

“Of course I don't!”

She had a point. “Then I will extend my trust before asking for yours,” I said. “I will show you my other secret.”

“I am not promising anything.” Her discomfort was growing. Again, I couldn't blame her.

I smiled and removed my clothing. Fortunately the distractions of the moment prevented me from getting the masculine reaction.

“And I'm not having sex with you,” Delle snapped.

“Neither am I,” Donald said, half smiling. He evidently knew that I knew his orientation.

“Just keep my secret,” I said, and murmured my Name.

“This is special,” Nonce said.

The three watched as my transformation commenced. Nonce had not seen me Change before, though she had encountered Mena, and was plainly interested. Delle and Donald seemed curious where this was leading.

“Oh, my,” Donald said as I lost my penis and grew breasts.

“A Succuba!” Delle said, alarmed. Obviously she understood the nature of Succubi, and wanted no part of it.

“Not so,” Nonce said. “This is not sexual. That is, it's a change of gender, sex being no necessary part of it.”

I completed my Change. “I am a WereWoman,” I said. “I am Mena, who does interviews that Phil can't manage. Will you do your magic now?”

Delle's mouth worked for half a sentence before she got it in gear. “I think I have to. Obviously you're not looking lasciviously at me. But my magic doesn't compare to that. I make Penny Curses.”

Nonce laughed. “Those can be fun. But they cost more than a penny.”

Delle brought out a penny. “They are cursed pennies, not curses sold for pennies. Give one to a person in Change and he will suffer minor bad luck until its limited power is expended. Drop one into a vending machine and it will likely jam. Put one in a shoe, and that shoe will trip over something. Put it in a hat, and the wearer will have uncomfortable thoughts for a while. It's strictly minor magic. I'm not a high power Witch.”

“Make one for me, please,” I said.

Delle focused on the penny. It glowed, then faded. And I read her Name and essence. She was indeed innocent, in more than one sense; she was a virgin.

“You're clear,” I said. I turned to Donald, mildly bemused to find him studying me with clinical rather than sexual interest. Had he not been gay, my phenomenal bare body would have stirred him. “Do you have an old-fashioned alibi for four nights ago, when Standish met his end?”

He winced, remembering his lover. “I was home with Delle. I don't know if that counts; of course she would cover for me.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “But now I know she is pristine.” I turned back to Delle, who was coloring faintly, recognizing the allusion to her virginity. “Do you confirm that he was home with you?”

“Yes,” she said with complete sincerity.

“And I believe you. I have read your mind and know you speak truly.”

“So we're both clear,” Donald said, relieved.

“You are. We regret having to put you through this, but we have to run down the murderer.”

“Yes you do,” Donald agreed with feeling.

“We understand,” Delle said. Then: “In this form, Mena—do you ever—? ”

“Have sex with a man? I did once, to make sure I really could do it. But I'm still a heterosexual man inside. I retched, after. There's no art to it. What sensible woman would ever want to have sex with a man? They're clumsy, sweaty, and disgusting, and the moment they get what they want, brupppt! They're gone.”

Nonce was stifling laughter, and Donald was also amused. But Delle was reassured. “I think I like you, Mena. Maybe we could be friends.”

She was lonely; that was another thing I had read in her. But she was a nice person. Could Mena have friends that Phil didn't? Why not. “Maybe after we nail the murderer,” I agreed.

“That would be nice. Here's your penny.” She handed it to me. “But about sex with a man. I've never done it, but I would be glad to if I found the right man. I don't see men as disgusting, and I wouldn't care how he looked, as long as he truly cared for and appreciated me.”

“Delle would date a Goblin if he were sincere,” Donald said. I realized that he wasn't joking. He knew what a sincere and giving person she was.

“I have done so,” Nonce said. “Goblins aren't bad when you allow for their taciturn nature. They are also rich, and can be generous if pleased.”

“Oh, I wouldn't do it for money,” Delle protested.

“Of course not,” Nonce agreed. “But it is a corollary that can be endured.”

And I knew also from my glimpse into Delle's mind that they were close to the wire financially. Probably the Warlock's generosity had helped them, but that was gone now.

I invoked my reversed Name and started my Change. But something was wrong; it wasn't going right.

“The curse!” Nonce exclaimed, catching on. “It's messing up your transformation.”

So it was. I set the penny down, and things were back on track.

Then I changed my mind. Mena needed more practice time, and this would do. I reversed my reversal, which had hardly started, and firmed as Mena. “This will do for a while,” I said. Then I remembered a detail. “Only I don't have my dress here.”

“Borrow one of mine,” Delle said quickly, hurrying to fetch one. “You're more buxom than I am, but this one is too large for me, and maybe it will do.”

I put it on; it was tight in places, but sufficed. I also borrowed a pair of her panties, and slippers. I didn't bother with a bra, knowing none of hers would fit me. So I would jiggle and bounce; who would object?

“I'm not sure I can keep the penny,” I said once I was dressed and ready to go. “Not if it messes up my magic.”

“Put it in this,” Delle said, proffering a miniature change purse. “It's shielded. They keep better when shielded, because they're not interacting with passing things.”

“Thank you.” I put the penny in the purse, and its faint dissonance faded.

We bade farewell to the siblings and returned to the car. “Two more down,” Nonce said.

“Was I being foolish?”

“About Mena being Delle's friend? I thought that was sweet. Mena needs a social life too, so she can become a real person.”

“Maybe that was in the back of my mind. I guess it does make sense.”

“But after her description of sex with a man, I'm not sure I want to touch you again.”

Oh, damn! But then she let her laughter out. She was teasing me.

“Now the Goblin,” I said.

“We'd better check in with Goblin HQ first, lest we provoke an inter-Clan incident.”

“Um, it just occurred to me: will I be, er, safe there?”

“Never fear. I will run interference if I have to. But Goblins can be surprisingly courtly about women. It's the one weakness in their wall of surliness. They know their appearance isn't impressive, so they try to make up for it by manner.”

That was reassuring, but not completely.

Nonce gave the car the address, and it smoothly conveyed us there. This turned out to be a squat stone building without markings. It looked like a deserted warehouse. We parked behind it and walked to the front, two pretty girls.

There was a Goblin on duty at the entrance office. He was squat and ugly, like the building, and he scowled as he blocked our way. “No admittance; didn't you oafs see the sign?”

This was courtly?

Nonce smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him. “We're Supes on business, as you can surely divine. One Witch and one Were. Now show us to your crew boss, or I'll kiss you again.”

The Goblin considered that, scowling. “You're not scaring me, BeWitch.”

Nonce laughed. “Then I'll try harder.” She caught hold of his head and made a flurry of kisses all over his face. “Does the threat of that scare you?”

“No. You can kiss me to oblivion, but I will not yield.”

I wasn't sure what game they were playing. It seemed to be a kissing contest that they both not-so-secretly enjoyed, but where was it leading?

“You're bluffing, Gob. Oblivion coming up.” Nonce inhaled and puckered.

A door behind the desk opened and a really homely Goblin in a dress appeared. In fact it was a female. “What are you up to, Clunker?” she demanded.

“Oh, snot!” Clunker mumbled. Then to the Gobliness: “Wretcha, these jokers want to see the Chief. I'm balking them, of course.”

“By kissing a Witch? She'll soon have you eating her pie à la mode.” Wretcha faced the visitors. “Now get your hairy bottoms out of here, you obscene intruders. The Chief won't see you.”

“Hairy bottom!” Nonce said, outraged. “What do you call this?” She pulled up her skirt to flash her absolutely smooth posterior.

I might have cautioned her, but realized that she had something in mind. She was putting on an act. Why?

“I call it a marvel of illusion,” Wretcha retorted. “You Witches can cover up the foulest malformations.”

“Malformation!” Nonce's outrage shook the office walls. I realized that she wanted to be heard well beyond the office. Whom was she signaling?