Mayor Pearl brandished her black umbrella in the air. “What fracas have you made now?”
“I’m afraid this isn’t our doing, Mayor Pearl,” Hector said.
“Of course it is—it’s a wolf!” Mayor Pearl’s scowl grew so pronounced her jowls almost swallowed up her chin. “A dead wolf.”
“A wolf from a neighboring Pack lost his mind,” Ember smoothly said. “Alpha Greyson—and Pip—protected the town.”
Mayor Pearl gave a great harumph, which moved the pointy shoulder pads of her suitcoat, as she looked Greyson up and down from head to toe. “I suppose I should at least be thankful you managed to keep pants and a shirt on during the fight. For once.”
Ahhh yes, Mayor Pearl continues her battle against public nudity.
When werewolves switched from their human form to their wolf body, their clothes were usually sacrificed in the process, which made for an awkward transition back to their human form.
Mayor Pearl had built her political platform on making Timber Ridge “decent” and “Family Friendly.” Which basically meant she watched the whole town with binoculars and smacked the Northern Lakes Pack with huge fines whenever she saw a bare belly.
Greyson smiled dazzlingly at the old woman. “We will be informing the Curia Cloisters of all that has happened here. I assume you would like to remain updated on the situation.”
“Naturally.” Mayor Pearl sniffed, then turned her steely gaze on me. “And what are you still doing here? The Timber Ridge Welcome Center is set to open by now. If I’m not mistaken, this is your shift.”
“The welcome center will be opening late today,” Greyson said, his voice a deep rumble that made Ember and Hector shift in response to the power laced within it.
“That’s not very professional,” Mayor Pearl said.
“I am delighted you are so concerned about a werewolf business,” Greyson smiled, though it didn’t make it all the way to his golden eyes. “But we are secure enough in our finances that we can stand to have the center open late today.”
Mayor Pearl darkly eyed Greyson, but there wasn’t much she could say.
The werewolves owned most of the businesses in town. They staffed and ran the welcome center—with the adjoining souvenir shop—as a sort of public service effort to encourage humans to visit the tourist town to see the werewolves.
They also owned several hospitals in the area, the only plumbing service for miles, the Timber Ridge cellphone store, and a slew of other businesses.
Mayor Pearl had no control over the center—though that didn’t keep her from lecturing us employees for what she saw as failing our duties.
“Pip,” Greyson said.
I unflinchingly met his gaze and held it—something I did on purpose because none of the other werewolves could meet his eyes due to his sheer presence as an Alpha. “What?”
“Go with Ember and take a fae healing potion.”
I frowned. “Why? It was just a nick, see?” I held back the ruined fabric of my sleeve to reveal a tiny scratch. With my slightly increased healing abilities, it would scab over within the hour. “Since I’m a hunter, I’m immune to all contagious and communicable diseases werewolves carry.”
“Go,” Greyson said, more of his power creeping into his voice.
Normally Greyson would know better than to try to push me around—there was no use trying since I was immune to his impressive-alpha-ness. I folded my arms across my chest and was getting ready to remind him of this when Ember gently touched my elbow.
“Given that the wolf was seemingly under the influence of magic, it is best we dose you with fae potions, in case the spell is something that can affect you,” she said.
I flattened my lips. “Yeah, okay, that’s a good point. Most fae magic doesn’t affect me, but I can’t recognize the magic used, so I get it.” My shoulders briefly slumped in defeat before I straightened up and smiled at Ember. “Right. Then let’s go!”
Ember smiled encouragingly, and beckoned for me to follow her.
As we strode off in the direction of the paved road I’d taken to get to the edge of town, I heard Mayor Pearl speak.
“Magic? There is magic involved? That’s it—give me a detailed explanation now, or I’ll call the chief of police here!”
Given that her husband was the chief of police and there was a grand total of roughly a dozen officers, it wasn’t the biggest of threats. But Mayor Pearl had perfected the art of figuratively running the wolves down.
“Hector will explain it all,” Greyson promised—likely to the displeasure of his beta. “If you’ll excuse me…” He picked up the dead wolf with one hand—as if he was a sack of potatoes—then walked off, leaving Hector to deal with Mayor Pearl.
“Of course, Mayor Pearl. It was Phillipa Sabre who saw it first…”
*
That night I filled out the dozens of forms the Curia Cloisters sent me about the incident—all under Hector’s watchful eyes. But I went to work like normal the following day, and I was feeling pretty good when I left the welcome center at five.
I’m glad I went to work today. It made life feel normal.
I swung my backpack as I made my way through downtown. Rather than passing through the park and heading for the most direct route home, I ducked behind City Hall and took a paved trail that started there.
The sky was still a glorious blue, and while the shadows were starting to stretch out, the sun didn’t show even a hint of setting.
I love long summer days. They’re the best!
I was almost to the end of the public walking paths/trails, when I felt a spot tingle in my hunter senses.
Overly cautious from the previous day’s encounter, I yanked a dagger from my backpack with one hand and grabbed my phone with the other. I then whirled around, straining my ears for any sounds.
A wolf crashed through the underbrush, popping out on the path.
I was surprised—and increasingly more worried—when I saw who it was: Alpha Dolph of the Low Marsh Pack.
Chapter 4
Pip
Tall but greasy looking with sweat slicked hair and an untrimmed beard, Dolph was a wilder breed of werewolf, and didn’t strictly follow human rules of hygiene like the Northern Lakes wolves did.
The Low Marsh Pack lived in a rural patch of land with no small cities, and they kept to themselves—which was probably all around better for the health of the humans in the area.
“Phillipa Sabre,” he growled.
I raised my dagger as I flicked past the lock screen of my phone. “Alpha Dolph. What do you want?”
Dolph chuckled—which sounded almost like a rusty growl. “Easy, hunter.” He held his hands up. “I’m unarmed. Just like my wolf was that you killed.”
“I stopped him from harming kids,” I said. “He got himself killed when he wouldn’t stop.”