Page 7 of Werewolves Don't Howl
“Oh, well…” He cleared his throat a few times, then directed me up the stairs, past the demon and angel statues guarding the way, and into the mythological creatures section. He scribbled down a call number, and with that, I was set.
I gathered a few of the most likely looking leather-covered suspects off the shelves and got to work at a table in the main second-floor study area. My father, the elf in my parental arrangement, was a researcher. He’d raised his children fluent in all the necessary tongues, including a smattering of celestial. My mother, the gnome, taught me how to bake cookies and knit. She’d taught me other things, like how to plant what under which cycle of the moon, but none of that was particularly relevant to my life. The cookies, absolutely essential, like the knitting, which was my chosen expression of enchantment. Being a gnome-elf made magic difficult. Throw a werewolf into the mix and magic became positively volatile. Still, knitting worked to calm the wolf and channel some of my magic.
Research was almost as soothing as knitting. I’d enjoyed doing the article on the Gray Society, on the Librarian, digging into the how’s and why’s, but politics were even more dangerous than magic. The mayor already knew I was a werewolf, but he hadn’t released the information, and wouldn’t as long as I played his game. It would be nice not to have anything he could use against me. Except that my life would be ruined.
No negativity. I refocused, redoubling my efforts, using slight magic spells to sift through pages in order to track down relevancies.
“The library is closing,” a gentle voice said at my shoulder.
I sat up, startled. It was the Librarian herself, the angelic blonde who’d worked with the HOSTs taking down a demonic guild intent on summoning a greater demon and bringing hell to earth. Again. Seeing her should have made me feel all kinds of awkward, but the library was closing? That was the ultimate disaster! That meant that I missed my appointment with Max and the rest of the pack. I ran a hand through my already mussed hair and gave the books another desperate look.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about pack law,” I said, looking back up at her.
She raised her brows, then glanced at the books, frowning as she leaned closer. “A bit. I used to work with a werewolf who was turned. You’re looking up differences in turned and born, as well as protection from rogue wolves.” She raised a brow at me. “Do they know where you live?”
I winced before I managed a smile. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No?” She took a seat next to me, leaning her elbows on the table, apparently ready to listen.
“It’s not a big deal, truly. He just left an animal on my doorstep.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want pack protection, but don’t want to be entangled by the pack?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Do you think it’s possible?”
She pursed her lips and then a slow smile spread over her face. It was a lovely smile, but it hinted at the diabolical, making me shift uneasily. “As a matter of fact, no.” My heart sank before she continued. “But I do know someone with an extremely big pool house who would rent it to you. His security is very good. We could camouflage your scent, and then you’d have more time to figure things out. Oh, he’s also a lawyer, so law and loopholes are his specialty.”
I stared at her, embarrassed that she’d think I needed so much help, also that I was tempted to take it and drag some innocent bystander into a pack mess. I shook my head. “I couldn’t possibly accept such an offer.”
“You’ve got a werewolf stalker leaving shredded bunnies at your door. If I didn’t do something, I’d be guilty of negligence when it was your body they found shredded. You did come to my library, and I’m the Librarian, besides which, I practically know you. You’re the lovely reporter who was here the messy day I chopped off Jazharad’s head.”
I wanted help from this magical person who had so many connections and so much magic. The massive library was part of her, so her magic was in finding answers. I nodded slightly, but then shook my head no with a sigh. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t possibly throw myself on the mercy of a stranger.”
“Come on,” she said, tugging my hand. “I need to talk to Cross about my taxes, anyway. You can check out the pool house and ask him about your werewolf law issues, then decide if you’d like to stay there. Otherwise, where will you go? They’ll check hotels first thing. What’s your name?” she asked.
“Delphi.”
“Delphi, I’m Libby. Why don’t you come and check out the pool house? He bragged about it, the jerk. I only have a waterfall and a river.” She sighed heavily. The poor wealthy.
“You think that he’d know about werewolf law?”
Her eyes twinkled. “If anyone knows anything about something that weird, it’d be Cross.” She started stacking the books. “We’ll take these with us. It’s always good to have reading material nearby, and Cross might not have books on werewolf law on hand.”
“I shouldn’t,” I said, but I let her grab my hand and tug me towards the stairs. She had a great deal of charisma and will. Who was I to stop her from protecting the little people?
“Why not? What else were you planning for tonight? Don’t worry. If you don’t like the pool house, you can always go back home.”
ChapterThree
The enormous estate situated on the edge of Singsong in one of the most luxurious neighborhoods still inside the gold walls was lined with old oak trees that gave it an old grove feel. My dad would love it. I loved it. The houses were large, gated, but charming instead of simply gaudy and big. They screamed taste more than wealth.
The iron wrought gates opened as Libby drove her large black car up to them, almost like her lawyer was expecting us. She had said that he’d do her taxes, but what kind of accountant lived in a place like this? Three stories, two charming towers, immaculate gingerbread, and a lush garden surrounding the courtyard where the car pulled around, until it sat between the double front doors and the large yet tasteful fountain.
“Are you sure…” I began.
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me out, tucking the stack of books under her other arm. “If you don’t want to stay here, I’ll take you with me to my place, although that’s not ideal since it’s in Song. Sort-of. Werewolves are a common thing, so you’d probably be spotted, but here? In this neighborhood? Even if I hadn’t put an anti-tracking spell on you, no one would find you for years, lost in the scent of mildew and money.”
She released me and adjusted the books before heading towards the front steps. She glanced around as she moved, like she was habitually wary of attack. I sniffed and smelled nothing but plants, water, and a delicious aftershave. It smelled edible, like it was made out of violets and watercress with a hint of spice. What was that spice?
