Page 1 of Waifs And Strays
Chapter
One
Everything was just peachy until the day a teenage werewolf showed up at my door.
I’d spent the better half of the morning coaxing She Who Hisses out of the bush in the far corner of my tiny front garden. Progress with the large, black, feral female had been slow over the last few days. When she’d given me her name on Sunday in return for some kibble, I’d been certain her attitude towards me was softening. Unfortunately, she seemed to have decided the reverse and that offering her name had been an aberrant show of weakness on her part. As a result, she had resolutely refused to look at me ever since.
Under normal circumstances, I’d have left her in peace; not every cat wants a home of their own and it’s important to respect their wishes. However, She Who Hisses was sporting a nasty, pus-filled abscess on her hind quarters and I knew that if she didn’t receive proper medical attention soon it would be the death of her, especially with winter approaching.
I’d left a trail of tasty tuna titbits and maintained a healthy distance to make sure she didn’t feel trapped. I’d been holdingmy position for almost thirty minutes and she’d quested forward on three separate occasions, her whiskers quivering and her nose twitching. I’d have her on the fourth attempt, I was sure of it.
The bush rustled and I held my breath. A black paw popped out, and another. They were followed by the pale pink of her nose. Here we go.
‘I’m not trying to harm you,’ I told her softly. Her head pushed forward and her yellow eyes blinked at me. I smiled. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’
A shadow fell between us. She Who Hisses growled once and threw herself out of the bush, darting to the side to scale the wall and leap away before I could grab her. She moved so fast I had no time to react.Goddamnit.
I let out a hiss of my own and, standing up, threw a withering glare at the intruder. ‘Get off my land, you tool!’
The teenager blinked at me with slow, uncomprehending confusion. ‘Huh?’
I waved a frustrated hand in the direction of She Who Hisses, even though the cat was no longer visible and likely wouldn’t return for hours, if ever. ‘You scared her off,’ I ground out. ‘I was trying to catch her.’
He blinked again. ‘For food? There’s not much meat on a cat.’
I stared at him in disbelief.
He coloured. ‘I heard a rumour that’s what people in this part of town do.’
Eat cats?’Which people?’ I demanded.
The kid shrugged. ‘Just … people.’
My eyes narrowed at the idea that anyone would even consider munching on a feline, then I exhaled as logic overtook my anger. This wasn’t exactly the most salubrious neighbourhoodin the magical city of Coldstream. It had garnered the nickname Danksville, and those of us with a sense of humour had appropriated the name and used it with pride. I supposed there would always be those who made up stories about its inhabitants.
From the kid’s expression, he knew nothing beyond that one ridiculous whisper. There was little chance it was true; nobody would really eat a damned cat.
I muttered under my breath, spun on my heel and stalked towards the house. That was when he finally sprang into action, lunged after me and grabbed my elbow. Big mistake.
I snarled, snapped my hand back to grip his forearm and twisted hard. He released his hold on me, dropped to one knee and screamed. It was an astonishingly high-pitched sound for a werewolf already at the tail end of puberty. ‘Bitch!’
‘Only one of us around here is a canine and it isn’t me,’ I told him. I let him go and continued on my way.
‘Wait!’ His voice was strangled. I ignored him. ‘Please.’
I stopped in my tracks and looked over my shoulder. ‘What?’
‘I’m here about the flat.’ He rubbed his arm as if he were afraid it might suddenly drop off. ‘Is it still available?’
I’d only advertised the vacant flat the previous day by placing a small advert in the classified section of theColdstream Courier. I wasn’t even sure that I wanted a new tenant – the last one had left the place in a mess and I certainly didn’t need the money – but it was helpful to maintain my position as a landlady to satisfy the unspoken questions from my nosy neighbours about where my money came from.
Curiosity finally got the better of me. I turned, faced the boy and gave him a closer look. He was tall and gangly, although there was evidence of the man he’d become one day from theway his chest was starting to fill out. Sadly for him, at the moment it made his body look out of proportion, more like a badly carved puppet than a living, breathing person.
It had been ten days since the last full moon but his wolf was still gleaming out of his skin, his beast form lurking directly beneath his acne-ridden pores. His shaggy, dark-brown hair was long enough to brush against his shoulders and didn’t appear to have seen a hairbrush or a comb since Michaelmas, but his face was clean – as were his expensively tailored clothes. He certainly hadn’t bought his shiny trainers here in Coldstream, and his gold watch looked like a family heirloom that was worth more than most of the houses on this street.
‘How old are you?’ I asked.
‘Nineteen,’ he answered quickly. He’d clearly been expecting the question and the lie fell from his mouth with prepared speed.
