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My Ratty Luck	By : Helbling Category: Anita Blake > FemmeSlash Views: 2501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Author's note: My God!! This story has taken me over, this is the third chapter I've completed in the space of 24 hours, this is becoming ridiculous! If the updates start slowing down a little, it'll be because I've realised I've got to do some of the r/l work I've been neglecting. I also have a favor to ask. My darling housemate, not knowing they were important, donated some of my earlier Anita books to a charity stall, which means I am now in possession of no book earlier than Burnt Offerings. If anyone knows the whereabouts of a site which gives good summaries/profiles of all of the known wererats, particuarly their activities in the earlier books, I would be most appreciative! ty

At the end of the corridor was a single office desk, holding the normal amount of equipment – computer, phone, fax, etc. But there was no one sitting at the desk. I frowned and rolled towards it.

“Hello?” I called. There was no answer. Something inside me started listing possibilities while trying not to panic.

Maybe there was someone else here who’d come to see them, and they were talking to them? Maybe you needed an appointment? Maybe doctor Lillian was affiliated with this place, had come back, told them all about me and had rallied the troops to lead an after hours information attack on my house?

I turned the corner by the desk, and came across a shortish, young, blonde guy with headphones on hastily filing papers into big grey cabinets with a certain lack of finesse.

Or they could all be snowed under with paperwork, I thought, wryly.

I rolled closer to him. “Hello?” I said again loudly. He didn’t react, and I rolled forward to tap him on his shoulder, but he turned around and saw me.

“Hi,” he said, removing his headphones.

“Hi,” I said back, butterflies I’d thought I wasn’t going to get suddenly making an appearance. Did I really want to know what I was about to find out? “Is this the coalition?” I asked, before I could talk myself out of it.

He nodded. “Yeah, can I help you with anything?”

“Um,” I hesitated. I really, really didn’t want to put all my cards on the table at once. My trust in how good a judge of character I was had been shaken by Rose’s little session earlier on, and although all my instincts were telling me this was a good guy I could talk to, and tell everything to, I didn’t want to test that theory just yet. “I was just wondering if you could give me some general information.”

He kept looking at me, and I realised he was going to want more than that to go on. In desperation I went with one of the oldest ones in the book, and something that I hadn’t dragged out of retirement since I was 15.

“I have a friend,” I said, slowly. “She said there’s a large chance she’s got lycanthropy, but she’s not sure. I wanted to know what’s going to happen if she has got it.”

His eyes softened. Great. He now thought I was just a helpful human worried about her friend. A good person. When, if, I ever told him I was the friend, and revealed the details of my encounter with Lillian, he would no longer be thinking that. I mentally slapped myself for choosing such a stupid lie.

“I’m sorry for your…” he paused, and I got the distinct impression the ‘friend’ line was being taken with more than a pinch of salt, “…friend. Did she say which flavour – which animal – she’s going to be?”

I shook my head. If I said wererat, I’d be narrowing it down too much. I needed the general stuff before specifics.

“Ok, well, why don’t you come and chat to me.” He walked over to a nearby chair, and gestured for me to come closer to him. Then he grinned and said “I’m Jason by the way.” He held out his hand. I shook it.

“Katherine Maguire. My friends call me Kat.”

He nodded again. “Ok Kat, well, your friend is going to be in for a rough ride for a while. She’ll need lots of support from her family and friends, lots of patience, and lots of help to adjust to what she is. Her pack, or pard, or paquet, or whatever group she ends up belonging to will help her adjust there, but you’ll need to help her adjust in the real world.”

I nodded. “How long a time are we talking?”

He sighed and cocked his head to one side. “The average time to adjust is about 2 years. I’ve seen some conquer it in 10 months, one werewolf I know has had it for five years and is still not quite there. It tends to get easier after the first six months, but there’s no guarantee it works that way for everyone.”

I nodded again, mind filling with questions. What did he mean by a hard time? Did it hurt? Would I be able to walk in rat form, or would I still need to attach my lower half to a set of wheels I order to get around? “You said pack, or…” I trailed off, not being able to quite remember the other words he said.

“Pack, pard, paquet.” He said again.

“Right, what are they?”

“They’re group names,” he said, thoughtfully, as if his mind was somewhere else. “The pack refers to werewolves, that’s what they call themselves. The wereleopards are the pard, and the wererats are the paquet. They’re the three most prominent and active groups in the city. There is also a large werehyena group, but they tend to segregate themselves more, so I don’t know what they call themselves.”

“Do the different animals groups differ much?” I asked, my ears perking up at the paquet. If my schoolgirl french was still reliable, it translated as ‘bundle’. Remembering pictures I’d seen of swarms of rats together, all in one big furry mass on top of each other, it seemed to fit.

Jason was smiling and nodding again. It occurred to me that there had been an awful lot of smiling and nodding in this conversation, almost as if we were being careful of one another. “There are differences, but also similarities.” He took a breath, as if wondering where to start. “For instance, there are always dominance struggles within groups, and even occasionally between groups. Lycanthropes in general become far more tactile than they would have been as a plain human, because most animals express friendship and companionship through touch. It’s not uncommon for lycanthropes to sleep together in a big pile in a non-sexual way for companionship.”

I privately thought of my early morning struggles with my cats and dogs and had to hide a smile. Looked like I might have my own private little paquet already! Jason carried on.

“But each group is structured slightly differently, often depending on the animal tendencies. For instance, the hyena group is matriarchal, whereas with the wolves and rats, males tend to be more dominant, although strong females would also be able to climb the ladder. In the leopard’s pard, dominance is based on strength alone. But there are other structural differences too. Truthfully though, I’d only be able to go into detail on how the pack is but-”

I cut him off. “Wait, you’re a werewolf?” I stared at him. I couldn’t help it. He seemed so…so normal.

He grinned at me. “Yep, most of the people that work here are, we’re considered the experts on the subject after all, and it can be difficult to get a job after you’ve been outed.”

I stared at him wide eyed. Here was the bit I was dreading facing. “Is there much of a problem with prejudice?”

He nodded slowly, no longer smiling. “There’s a big problem with it. If you work anywhere in the public sector, or even a large company actually, if they find out that you have it, you’ll be fired.”

“But isn’t that discrimination?” I asked, outraged.

“Yeah, but they never say that that’s why they’re doing it. Suddenly your performance report will take a mysterious downturn, or a customer filed a complaint against you, you’re a health and safety risk, they think you embezzled some money, although they have none missing and no one saw you do it…” He trailed off, his eyes sad. “The number of excuses I’ve heard about why they’re being let go. And although you don’t have to declare you have it on an application for, once one employer knows it, it’ll get around.” He looked very, very sad.

“Did you get fired?” I asked quietly. He shook his head.

“I never got the job I wanted, to get fired from. I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher when I was younger, I love kids. But then…” He shrugged in a defeated way. I had the sudden and great urge to give him a hug, but he perked himself up before I could do so.

“But I’m doing ok now!” He grinned at me, but there was something still extremely sad behind it. I nodded at him, happy to go along with his ruse. It was none of my business if that particular dream was still dying a painful and unavoidable death.

“What do you do?”

“Well, a number of things really. I’m one of the main go betweens the Master of the City and the pack, I bartend, I strip occasionally, which is great fun,” he threw me a wink. I felt a warm smile break out, it had been so long since I’d been flirted with! “Great for getting with the ladies.” He continued. “And I temp here when no one else is available.”

“Wow,” I managed, “that’s a lot of jobs.”

“Well, they’re not all full time, and half of them are more play than work,” he flashed a ‘come and play’ smile at me, and I couldn’t help but grin back, “But some of it is tedious, yes.” His eyes drifted to the still open cabinet with papers flowing out, and look of disgust filled his eyes. “One bit in particular comes to mind.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it, he was looking at the waterfall of pages with such loathing. “I can help if you want,” I offered. “I’m an old hand at that stuff.

Jason looked tempted, but shook his head. “I’d love to take you up on your offer, but I can’t. There’s too much confidential stuff on it.”

I nodded my understanding.

“But,” he continued, “I think there’s someone here that wants to see you anyway.” He pointed behind me.

I turned and looked, and there, still with her hair unmussed, stood Dr. Lillian.
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My Ratty Luck