Page 1 of The Thief

Chapter 1

“Who took my slipper socks?” I grumbled from my bedroom floor. It was as clean as a whistle beneath the bed. Before getting up, I glimpsed them underneath the papasan chair in the corner. “Nobody took them, Mercy. You just don’t know how to keep your room clean.”

After grabbing my blue socks, I sat in the round papasan to put them on. The oversized rattan chair had a fluffy cushion, which made it a cozy spot to lounge. A sheer canopy, which I’d fastened to the ceiling, draped around me. Fairy lights were stitched into the fabric, giving off a magical glow whenever I turned them on at night.

For the past month, our pack had worked on erecting a stable for Tak’s horse. We were also still clearing out nettles, poison oak, deadfall, and other hazards around the house.

In my free time, I focused on my bedroom. Though the walls were insulated, the doors weren’t. I’d chosen a central room to distance myself from Melody and Lakota, who squalled like cats in heat when they made love. The trade-off was listening to Virgil sing at night, but that I didn’t mind so much. He had a beautiful voice that often lulled me to sleep.

My room was in the second hall off the primary hallway, which cut straight through the upper floor. No windows meant extra wall space to hang pictures or shelves. I would also never have to worry about anyone crawling into my room while I was asleep.

The linen blanket covered my bed like white chocolate, accent pillows in muted tones decorating it like candy sprinkles. While I had nowhere near the same artistic talent as Robyn, who could sketch a cathedral blindfolded, I dabbled here and there with a sponge and a little paint. My walls were a blank canvas except for the one behind the bed. I’d chosen pale blue for the sky and shaped the puffy clouds as realistically as possible. Blue was my favorite color, especially light blue.

I gazed at the cloudscape, the imagery transporting me to a peaceful place in my mind where troubles and fear didn’t exist.

A knock sounded from the door.

“Mercy? Are you in there?” Robyn asked.

“Come on in!”

Our pack respected one another’s privacy and didn’t enter bedrooms without an invitation. But Robyn was my first visitor, and I wanted to show off my hard work.

She peered inside. Her shaggy haircut suited her heart-shaped face and made her green eyes stand out. “Dinner’s ready.”

“I was fixin’ to come down for supper as soon as I found my slippers. My feet are as dry as a bone from running around barefoot.”

Robyn’s gaze darted around as she entered. Instead of lounge clothes, she still had on the khaki shorts and black tank top she’d been working in earlier. Her summer tan was never more evident than when she walked around barefoot, her feet two shades paler. “That’s a cute chair. I love what you’ve done…” Her words faltered when her gaze fixed on the wall to her right. “Is that wallpaper?”

“I painted it,” I proudly confessed.

Her jaw slackened. “It’s gorgeous! I had no idea you painted.”

“I don’t. Not really. I can do walls but nothing like what you do. A few sponges hardly make me an artist, but I think it looks real purty. Don’t you?”

“I’ll say. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Robyn touched her cheek, still staring at the mural. “Could you paint one of our walls? Montana’s version of decorating is mounting a hook for his hat.”

I half smiled, tickled by the trivial things they must have argued over. “Most men don’t have a lick of common sense when it comes to decorating. Did you see what Virgil tried hanging in the game room today?”

Robyn rolled her eyes. “You mean the abstract erotic art from the 1970s? I had to stare at it for a few minutes before I realized it was a couple in the sixty-nine position.”

“There was a lot going on in that painting,” I agreed. “I know we only have so much space in our bedrooms to fit our belongings, but that abomination has no place on a public wall. It’s not that I don’t appreciate art. I just don’t want to see fellatio while I’m playing Scrabble. He needs to put it in the storage room,” I said, referring to the one by Joy’s bedroom.

“Tak said there’s no reason to be using the storage rooms yet. He thinks if we slip stuff in there now, it’ll encourage pack-rat behavior. I guess it’s harder when you’re older and have more stuff. If anything, it’ll force everyone to reevaluate what’s important.” She put her hands in her pockets. “What about you? Will all your belongings fit in here?”

“I gave most of them away but kept a few odds and ends. Virgil’s holding on to an entire century of bad art. He doesn’t want to sell it, so he’s sneaking it around the house.”

She turned away from the bed and peeked inside my near-empty closet. “Are these all the clothes you own? It’s so bare in here except for the stuff you bought at Moonglow.”

“I brought whatever would fit in the top case and saddlebag of my scooter, and it wasn’t much. I could have attached more bags, but I was afraid they’d fly off on the highway. All my personal things were put in storage.” I glanced at the two boxes on the floor that had recently arrived. “My whole life fit into one storage locker, the smallest one they had. I finally got around to having my things shipped here.”

“Any clothes?”

“No. Just a bunch of old sentimental papers and knickknacks.”

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