But that was only how Mira Lepstein looked. In reality . . . she was a killer. There wasn’t anyone or anything she wouldn’t hunt down and eradicate if it got in her way. Of course, Mira came from a long line of killers. Her parents hunted down Nazis after the war, and there were some ancient relatives in parts of Russia that used to take on the Cossacks. Even her shoes were a lie. She had higher heels in her car. She wore the low heels to fool people into thinking she was nothing more than a nice, simple grandmother. But she wasn’t.
That’s why Van knew that when all this started, she’d come. Especially when he’d seen her granddaughter standing there with Max and her other friends. He just hadn’t expected Mira to be here. In a lion’s den, with lion males right outside the door. These were not two species that were cozy.
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up,” Mira told him.
“A heads-up about what?”
She motioned him farther into the room. He took a step inside but stopped to examine the space, including the ceilings. Especially any vents or cabinets. Then he lifted his nose, sniffed the air.
“Come, little doggy,” she teased. “You are safe.”
“Like I was in Istanbul?”
“That was a long time ago—just a misunderstanding. You really need to get over it. We are older now. Smarter. You are a father and leader. I am a grandmother and soon, God willing, a great-grandmother for the second time. So let us put the past behind us and talk.” She patted a spot next to her on the couch. He sat in a chair across the room.
“Talk,” Van told her.
“Dogs,” she muttered under her breath. “Always so rude.” She let out a breath. “Fine. You know what situation we have.”
“I know your situation. It’s not like my situation.”
“But it is. You think the de Medicis are your only problem. But they are not.”
“And why is that?”
“Who do you think bankrolls this insanity?”
“Why do the de Medicis suddenly care about honey badgers?”
“I do not know. But they have become a problem for both of us.”
“Don’t you mean all of us?” Van asked, glancing at Imani.
“Imani no longer works for Katzenhaus,” Mira told him. “She works for you. She has her own little group that includes my granddaughter.”
Van began to lie but she held her hand up. “Don’t bother. I already know the truth, and we don’t have time to play any more games.”
“I may no longer work for Katzenhaus,” Imani cut in, “but I am still a retired leader. And I know that they will not challenge the de Medicis. Neither will the bears. They want nothing to do with any of this.”
“That seems foolish,” Mira remarked.
“I agree.” Imani gave a small shrug. “But I’m not in charge anymore. Katzenhaus is not going to fuck with the de Medicis. Not over badgers.”
“What about the schemes that have nothing to do with badgers?”
“I have tried, in vain, to get Katzenhaus involved in that situation as well, but they say they want more proof.”
“And proof will do what?”
“Probably nothing.”
“Just great.” Van stood, began to pace.
“As little as Katzenhaus cares about the honey badgers, they care even less about full-humans.”
“This whole thing with the badgers started when the de Medici father disappeared,” Ric noted. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Mira?”
“Me? Why would I kill that mean bastard? Personally, I think his sons did it. They wanted to be in charge and now they are.”
“He was their leash. If he’s dead . . .”
“Och!” Mira slashed her hand through the air. “I am tired of treating these bastards like they run the Holy Roman Empire.”
“No one sane, Mira, wants to go up against the de Medicis,” Imani insisted.
“I know. That’s why I called in those who have no sanity.”
Van didn’t like the sound of that at all. Nope. Not at all.
“Who?”
Now Mira shrugged. “I called in Tracey Rutowski and her—”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Oh, Mira. No!”
“I went to a show at Rutowski’s gallery in Manhattan a couple of months ago. It was amazing.” Ric blinked, looked at all of them before adding, “But I guess that’s not the point of this conversation.”
“Didn’t she start Chernobyl?” Imani asked.
“No! That was propaganda from Russian cats. She was nothing but a child then.”
“She did extend the Cold War,” Van reminded her.
“She did not extend it. She simply made it a little more difficult to end. And you forget she was a teen then, dabbling in things she didn’t understand.”
“A teen starting shit with her honey badger friends. In foreign countries. Involving Gorbachev. And now you bring her into this?”
“What do you want me to do? The cats won’t help,” she said. “Neither will bears. And if there’s anyone who can find out what’s going on and maybe unearth the information that will get Katzenhaus off their collective asses, it is Tracey Rutowski and her honey badger friends.”
“Is this because of your granddaughter?” Van asked. “Are you putting us all at risk to protect her?”
“My granddaughter can take care of herself. But I will not put my species at risk. If that means pulling the craziest of our kind out of retirement to help, then that is what will happen.”
Mira stood. She put the straps of what had to be a fourteen-thousand-dollar designer purse over her forearm and paused to brush long lion hair off her black suit.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I have other things to get to. I just thought you should know where we all stood at the moment. And I will ask both of you to let Rutowski do her work.”
“And if she blows up half of Manhattan . . . so be it?”
“Oh, puhleese, little dog. Such lies you all tell. Besides,” she added, pushing past Ric, “the Berlin wall had to come down sometime, and she was smart enough to make it look like everyone was involved!”
Chapter 8
“Tock?”
Tock froze. She’d been trying to sneak through the kitchen, hoping Charlie wouldn’t notice her. Charlie was at the sink with her back to Tock, washing the last of the utensils she’d used to create her amazing baked goods. Tock had assumed she’d just be ignored now that the bears had been fed and had finally lumbered off.
She was wrong.
So she stood there, frozen.
Charlie shut off the water, shook her hands over the sink, and grabbed a paper towel to dry them. As she turned toward Tock, she asked, “Did you eat something?”
“Uh . . .”
“You need to eat. After what your body went through, food is the most important thing right now.”
“I, uh, had a muffin.”
“One muffin?”
“I only wanted one muffin.”
“Sit,” Charlie ordered and Tock immediately sat down. “You need something a little more substantial than a muffin. You don’t want to suddenly pass out, do you?”