The Pattersons were a cute couple, a nice couple. They had been married for six years and were still very much in love; I could tell by the way they treated each other—not sappy public displays of affection you’d see from a gushing new couple, but with an obvious sense of partnership. They moved together, finished each other’s sentences, were very much on the same page.
As they came into the Chambeaux & Deyer offices after scheduling a first-available appointment (Sheyenne fit them in at the end of the day), I could see they were upset and nervous. My heart went out to them immediately—mixed couples never had an easy time of it.
Walter Patterson was a vampire, and his wife Judy was a werewolf, one of the full-time hairy-faced lycanthropes.
“I’m fed up with this crap!” Walter said. “It’s not right, and I’m sick of turning the other cheek.”
Judy leaned forward, nuzzling his pale cheek in an attempt to calm her husband. “We were told that Ms. Deyer might be able to help us. We don’t have a lot of money, but we thought the nature of our problem would interest you.”
Robin said, “Your message said something about discrimination?” She led them to the conference room, and I tagged along. The Pattersons seemed eager to tell their story to as many people as possible. I had other plans—but not until much later that night.
Robin, with her yellow legal pad, began to compile a case file. Walter Patterson had been a plumber before he was turned into a vampire, and Judy worked in an insurance office. She’d been putting in a few hours of overtime on the wrong full-moon night and had gotten scratched by a drunk werewolf staggering out of the Goblin Tavern (the bartender before Francine didn’t always know when to cut his customers off). The two met as unnaturals, fell in love, got married. The Pattersons were strictly middle class, but they worked hard, scrimped and saved, and chased after their own version of the American Dream.
“It took us four years to put together a down payment,” Walter said. “I even worked day shifts, without hazard pay. But we finally set enough aside, got ourselves a real estate agent, and decided to buy a home of our own.”
“A nice place with white siding, black shingles on the roof, a little yard,” Judy said. “Maybe a place for kids to play.” She sounded wistful.
“We love to throw Halloween parties,” Walter added. “We had it all planned out. At first, our real estate agent tried to interest us in crypts or haunted houses, but we wanted a normal home, someplace outside the Quarter. I don’t think Mr. Allan knows the suburban market very well.”
I had to give the troll real estate agent points for ambition, if nothing else. “Did he do something wrong? Do you need to file a complaint with the Real Estate Board?”
“Oh, no! Mr. Allan is very earnest, and he has our best interests at heart. It’s . . . it’s . . .” Judy burst into tears.
“It’s the other people.” Anger grew in Walter’s voice again. “We picked out our dream house, a rancher at the end of a cul-de-sac. Good school district, not much traffic, even a bike path nearby. But the neighbors protested. They don’t want our kind there. Apparently, a mixed-race couple simply isn’t welcome in the suburbs.”
“Or any unnatural couple,” Robin said.
Walter’s hand clenched. His forearm muscles were well developed, no doubt from his years as a plumber. Tears ran down the fur on Judy Patterson’s face, and she wiped them furiously away with a clawed hand. “Don’t you think it’s hard enough for a vampire and a werewolf to overcome the difficulties? We feel like Romeo and Juliet sometimes.” She heaved a growling breath and shuddered.
Walter said, “We even went to see that play at the Shakespeare in the Dark performance a month ago. I didn’t know it had such a sad ending! Not much of a crowd pleaser.”
“He hasn’t even seen West Side Story,” Judy said in a quiet voice.
“Next time I see Shakespeare’s ghost, I’ll pass along your complaint,” I said.
“What exactly have your neighbors done to harass you?” Robin pressed, getting back to business.
“Protests, picket signs, intimidation. They made it very plain they intend to run us out of the neighborhood,” Walter said.
“If we ever close the mortgage,” Judy added. “Mr. Allan says he’s never seen anything like it in all his years as a real estate agent. Simple permits were denied. Our loan application was ‘lost’—repeatedly. Our first two mortgages were turned down, even though we have excellent credit and clearly qualify according to their guidelines.”
The vampire was working himself up and flashed his fangs as he raised his voice. “It’s housing discrimination, and I know that Senator Balfour is behind it. His people have latched onto our case, and they’re all brave and snooty now that it looks like he’ll push through his Unnatural Acts Act.”
Judy reached out a furred hand to touch her husband’s pallid, cadaverous one. She extended her black claws and traced them along the back of his clenched fist. “We’re just everyday people. We’re good citizens. We pay our taxes. We just want the same rights as everyone else.”
Robin’s dark eyes were flashing, and I could sense her anger rising as well. “This is appalling—and the case is clear. I am offended on your behalf. We’ll take care of this garbage. They’re not going to get away with it.”
Though she was black, Robin hadn’t been battered by such blatant discrimination. Her parents owned a nice house in the suburbs and lived a normal upper-middle-class life. Even so, she had always been passionate about civil rights and helping anyone less fortunate. When she went into the legal profession and saw the prejudice and unequal treatment that monsters faced after the Big Uneasy, she’d found her calling in life. I think her parents would have preferred her to have a career in patent law or become a wealthy corporate attorney, but there was no swaying Robin once she set her heart on something. I knew that full well.
“Does that mean you’ll take our case?” Judy Patterson asked.
“With pleasure,” Robin said. “I’ll need copies of your paperwork, your financial records, the forms you filed, the denials you received. There are federal laws against housing discrimination. We have a potential suit against the homeowners’ association and also against the lenders for violating the Equal Housing Protection Act. If everything is as you say, it’s a clear-cut case, and I’ll file several discrimination suits on your behalf by tomorrow morning. I’ll stay up all night if I have to.”
Chapter 21
Even though the Goblin Tavern wasn’t the same under the new management, McGoo and I kept meeting there, at least for the time being. We were creatures of habit.