Page 7 of Spellbound & Speechless
Mac
If my wolfbrought me to Starbrook, there must be something here worth finding, but I still don’t know what it is.
I’ve been on the road for years. I gave up any chance at a normal life for… this. Standing aimlessly in the middle of a small town in Maine.
Starbrook is all right, as far as small towns go. It has a grocery shop and a couple of locally owned businesses. That’s it. Other than a few friendly faces, there’s nothing to write home about. The weather is dogshit, but at least I’m here before winter—just in time to watch the leaves change color.
I’ll be gone before the first snowflake falls.
I’ve been to dozens of small towns across America and found a few threads to pull, but I’ve never seen a reason to stay long. The person I’m tracking doesn’t sit still. I never find the answers I’m looking for.
They escape before I can find them. Every. Damn. Time.
This will be different.
I stand outside the only bar in town, with my hands shoved deep in my pockets. For the second time since arriving, my wolf perks up its ears. It’s more than the usual fleeting curiosity. There’s something worth noting around here; I can smell it.
The faintest, rotten smell. What I’ve been looking for.
It’s only noon. The bar looks quiet inside, with a few workers wandering around.
I sniff once, twice, unsure where the smell is coming from… until a werewolf passes by.
The scent is strong enough to cover up the rotten smell around the building. I wasn’t raised in a pack, not really—not how most wolves are—but I still know their scent. It smells like home.
The stranger seems to recognize me as a wolf, too.
He stops and greets me with a big smile, lifting his brows. “There’s a new wolf in town? Are you here for the Hawthorne bar?”
I glance inside, spotting a witch with pitch-black hair. She’s been bustling around all morning, cleaning and brewing potions. Must be one of the Hawthornes. “Sure am. I’ve heard a lot about it.”
“Not surprised. It’s the talk of the town right now—hell, the talk of Maine.”
It seems my wolf was right to lead me here. There has to be a reason the town is talking about the bar. There’s nothing special about the place as far as I can see. Sure, it’s the only place to get a drink in town… but what about the rest of Maine? I’ve passed through enough places to know there are more. Portland, the first city I stopped in, had alotmore to offer.
What’s so special about Starbrook?
“I’ve only heard good things.” I say no more, hoping the stranger will spill something without me confronting him.
He smiles big enough that you would think the bar belongs to him rather than the woman inside. “This is theonlypotion bar in all of Maine, you know.”
I guess that answers one of my questions.
“Oh, I know.” I had no clue until this conversation, but at least the strange wolf isn’t holding back. Typical small-town gossip. “I’m looking forward to giving it a try. Any clue when this place comes to life?”
“They open at noon,” he says. “The lunch menu is good, but the tavern really fills up once the sun sets.”
“Cool.” I run my fingers through my curls. “Thanks for the information, man. I’ll see you around.”
“I’ll be seeing you tonight, hopefully.” He takes a step closer, his eyes sparkling. “I’d love to buy you a drink.”
Great. Now, he’s hitting on me. I expect my wolf to roar to life from the attention, but he stays quiet. Weird. Not his type, I guess. Wasn’t aware my wolfhada type.
I force a tight smile. “You haven’t even told me your name.”
He’s a good-looking man with chestnut brown hair and eyes. Any other time, I would have taken up the offer without hesitation. Not now. I don’t have time for distractions right now, and this stranger is certainly offering one.
“Antoni,” he says. “Part of the Crivello pack.”
