Page 68 of Mongrel
“Will they suspect we’re here?” I ask.
Janos shakes his head. “No. I made them forget.” He says it with the kind of nonchalance I could never fathom. Wouldn’t want to. Making another person forget their memory is…shady at best, unethical at worst. I don’t like it.
Nevertheless, I’m glad to be alone. Mostly alone. I ignore Janos in favor of Bowie. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” He wraps his arms around my waist and sighs into my throat. His soft breath ruffles the fur on the back of my neck. “Antsy. I don’t feel much like resting.”
“Me neither.” I hold him close, relishing this moment, even if Janos is watching like a creepy weasel.
The muscles of Bowie’s back shift beneath his coat as he rests his weight against me. I know we have important things to discuss, plans to hash out, but as far as I’m concerned, this moment could stretch forever.
“You know who likes hugs?” asks Janos. “I do. I like hugs.”
Bowie chuckles. I feel it against my chest and tug him closer.
“You get plenty, I’m sure,” says Bowie. “Won’t Thomas and the twins be anxiously awaiting your return?”
“Bettina has the twins. And you know Thomas will be there, but not waiting. He’ll have acquired his own harem if I’m not back soon.”
Bowie absently strokes the place where my hair turns to fur. “All the more hugs to welcome you home.” His lips move against my skin.
I want him to bite me. I wish Janos weren’t here.
“As sticky sweet as you pair of cinnamon rolls are together, can we break it up and work on the plan?”
With a kiss to the sensitive spot just beneath my ear, Bowie pulls away. I let him go with reluctance.
“Come farther back,” says Janos. “I swiped a stack of blankets from the stables and bought some ham, bread, and wine for Andras.”
My ears perk up at the mention of ham. Perhaps Janos isn’t all that bad.
He spreads the old horse blankets on the ground. We sit. I take the food he offers, suddenly starving, and dig in.
“Have you a way into the castle?” asks Bowie.
Janos shakes his head. “Nothing easy, no. I’ve considered posing as vendors, but we’ll need a wagon and stock. There’s—”
“No time for that,” Bowie finishes. “Anything else?”
“Hidden tunnels. From the church to the castle, but I can’t distinguish if they’re real or rumor. Everyone and their friend’s uncle in this town have heard of them, but no one’s been inside or knows where the entrances lie. I have an idea of where to search, but again…”
“No time.” Bowie presses his lips to a frustrated line. “And what if the castle’s side of the tunnel is locked or otherwise barred?”
“Ah, I have a set of skeleton keys.” Janos slips a ring of various-sized brass keys from a hidden pocket within his shirtsleeve. “All the main tumblers have been filed down, leaving only the crucial parts behind, which will conquer nearly any lock.”
“You know how to use those?” asks Bowie, skeptical.
“It’s not hard,” says Janos. “They work like any other keys.”
“Hmm.” Bowie’s expression blanks in thought. “Maybe the tunnels aren’t a bad idea if we could find them in a hurry. But if we don’t, well, that’s time wasted, isn’t it?”
I swallow a mouthful of bread and ham. “What if we let the guard catch us? Commit some minor offense within sight of the walls, something harmless like drunken arguing or petty theft, and let them drag us in?”
“And when we’re thrown into the dungeon,” says Bowie while Janos jangles the keys, “Janos can just let us out.”
“It could work,” I add.
“It’s not the worst idea,” says Janos.
