with stylized landscapes marked with bold strokes of calligraphy. Straight ahead was a counter plastered with photographs that illustrated the meals. In short, it was like any other inexpensive Chinese restaurant in any other place.
Except for the giant panda shifter sitting at the register, that is, chewing a stalk of bamboo. By the time Tanner blinked a few times, though, an elderly Asian man with a long, skinny beard sat where the panda had been, holding a slender pipe in place of the bamboo.
Whoa. Had he been imagining things, or had the guy shifted that fast?
The bead curtain separating the order counter from the kitchen parted, and a young woman wearing a Hello Kitty apron stepped out.
“Welcome to the Golden Panda. A drink for the gentlebear?”
Tanner tilted his head. Did pandas have as keen a sense of smell as bears, or could she tell what he was through some other means? He patted his jean pockets and ran a quick hand over his chin. There’d been no time to shave before coming out here, but the scruff he felt was man-scruff, not grizzly hair. Huh. Was it that obvious he was a shifter?
He sniffed the air. The three guests huddled on the right had to be pandas, too. The two on the left with funny mustaches were…primates of some kind. Which stumped him. What kind of primates had hair that spiked straight up from their heads and mustaches that flared out at the sides?
“Um…” He scratched his head, trying to get back on course. “I’d like some dragon soup.”
He felt silly uttering the words like some kind of spy code, but if it meant seeing Karen again…
The woman’s eyes narrowed. She gave him a slow once-over then exchanged a few words with the old man in Chinese.
“Just a moment, please,” she said, heading toward the kitchen again. The beaded curtain closed behind her, and through it, Tanner swore he saw her body change into a furry, black-and-white form. A panda in a Hello Kitty apron?
He stepped aside as he waited and studied the photographs on one wall. At first, he figured they were nature shots of pandas in the wild, but soon he came to suspect they were vacation shots of some kind. He could just imagine the narrative that might accompany them.
There’s Grandpa with the nephews in Sichuan Province…
Below the panda photos was a framed poster that had to have come out of a National Geographic magazine.
Mammals of Greater China,
it read, with pandas, tigers, and… Tanner leaned in to find out what those mustached monkeys were.
The Francois Langur, or Leaf Monkey, is the least studied of subfamily Colobinae…
He shot a glance over to the two men sipping green tea, then back at the poster. Leaf monkeys, huh?
His bear shrugged.
As long as they’re not armed with throwing stars, no problem.
“This way.” The woman in the apron returned and pointed him down a side hall.
His heart beat faster as he walked through the narrow space. It smelled of incense and ginger and jasmine tea. All so unfamiliar, so hard to read.
“Hello?” he called, reaching a round room set up for private parties with rich, luxurious decor, unlike that of the front dining room. The only thing that didn’t fit amidst the plush couches around the sides and the bouquet of exotic flowers on the center table was the cheap playpen. Two fluffy panda babies peered out at him with big, round eyes.
The one on the right yawned and blinked its black-ringed eyes, while the other waggled its oversized ears and squeaked.
“Um, hi,” Tanner murmured, looking around.
A dozen rooms with frosted glass panes set in the doors branched out from that central space, and all were closed except one. He stepped over, and his breath caught in his throat.
The room was wallpapered in rich red and gold and hung with tasseled red lamps. Some had dragons printed on them, others tigers, and they all seemed to aim their silent roars at him. But his gaze bounced right past them to Karen, standing at the far side of the small
Except for the giant panda shifter sitting at the register, that is, chewing a stalk of bamboo. By the time Tanner blinked a few times, though, an elderly Asian man with a long, skinny beard sat where the panda had been, holding a slender pipe in place of the bamboo.
Whoa. Had he been imagining things, or had the guy shifted that fast?
The bead curtain separating the order counter from the kitchen parted, and a young woman wearing a Hello Kitty apron stepped out.
“Welcome to the Golden Panda. A drink for the gentlebear?”
Tanner tilted his head. Did pandas have as keen a sense of smell as bears, or could she tell what he was through some other means? He patted his jean pockets and ran a quick hand over his chin. There’d been no time to shave before coming out here, but the scruff he felt was man-scruff, not grizzly hair. Huh. Was it that obvious he was a shifter?
He sniffed the air. The three guests huddled on the right had to be pandas, too. The two on the left with funny mustaches were…primates of some kind. Which stumped him. What kind of primates had hair that spiked straight up from their heads and mustaches that flared out at the sides?
“Um…” He scratched his head, trying to get back on course. “I’d like some dragon soup.”
He felt silly uttering the words like some kind of spy code, but if it meant seeing Karen again…
The woman’s eyes narrowed. She gave him a slow once-over then exchanged a few words with the old man in Chinese.
“Just a moment, please,” she said, heading toward the kitchen again. The beaded curtain closed behind her, and through it, Tanner swore he saw her body change into a furry, black-and-white form. A panda in a Hello Kitty apron?
He stepped aside as he waited and studied the photographs on one wall. At first, he figured they were nature shots of pandas in the wild, but soon he came to suspect they were vacation shots of some kind. He could just imagine the narrative that might accompany them.
There’s Grandpa with the nephews in Sichuan Province…
Below the panda photos was a framed poster that had to have come out of a National Geographic magazine.
Mammals of Greater China,
it read, with pandas, tigers, and… Tanner leaned in to find out what those mustached monkeys were.
The Francois Langur, or Leaf Monkey, is the least studied of subfamily Colobinae…
He shot a glance over to the two men sipping green tea, then back at the poster. Leaf monkeys, huh?
His bear shrugged.
As long as they’re not armed with throwing stars, no problem.
“This way.” The woman in the apron returned and pointed him down a side hall.
His heart beat faster as he walked through the narrow space. It smelled of incense and ginger and jasmine tea. All so unfamiliar, so hard to read.
“Hello?” he called, reaching a round room set up for private parties with rich, luxurious decor, unlike that of the front dining room. The only thing that didn’t fit amidst the plush couches around the sides and the bouquet of exotic flowers on the center table was the cheap playpen. Two fluffy panda babies peered out at him with big, round eyes.
The one on the right yawned and blinked its black-ringed eyes, while the other waggled its oversized ears and squeaked.
“Um, hi,” Tanner murmured, looking around.
A dozen rooms with frosted glass panes set in the doors branched out from that central space, and all were closed except one. He stepped over, and his breath caught in his throat.
The room was wallpapered in rich red and gold and hung with tasseled red lamps. Some had dragons printed on them, others tigers, and they all seemed to aim their silent roars at him. But his gaze bounced right past them to Karen, standing at the far side of the small
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